For Those We Hold Dearest
by Guardian55
Summary: Teresa died. Priscilla awakened. Young Clare sought out the man in black. Now, a week later, Clare finds herself in the company of an old friend of Teresa's, the organization's other number one, the only male Claymore of the era; Ivan the Terrible. And as Ivan protects along with teaches Clare his ways, he comes to learn exactly why Teresa died for the child; love. *Slight AU*
1. Nightmare

**C****hapter One: "The Nightmare that is Tereme"**

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><p>Absolute silence. That was all that could be heard in the formerly happy, quaint, prairie village of Tereme on this blazingly hot, humid summer day where the air shimmered with heat and the rare winds that blew through only seemed to make the irritate matters worse. Mind, the heat of the summer day wasn't what presently made Tereme so quiet or had made it so during the last week. No, the humidity wasn't what had all of the buildings currently locked down, shades drawn and devoid of noise.<p>

No, on this particular, heated day, there were worse things for the hiding villagers to fear.

During the course of the past week, the villagers of Tereme had suddenly begun to experience unpredictable murders in the streets. Those in question that'd been murdered had been gruesomely ripped open. And as for those folk who had thought about leaving the land to be anywhere else than in Tereme during the last few days, they had mysteriously disappeared on the road without a trace in the general area too.

Now… well for the last few days actually since the community had gone into lockdown until help would hopefully arrive in any form, no one was sure if they would be picked next or not. Picked next for what, one would wonder? Obviously for the daily ritual. The grim ritual that had been started the day after Tereme had sent out messengers for help from the outside world and had then gone into lockdown.

Indeed, since that described day Tereme had sent out messengers, several non-human beings had begun to go around breaking down house doors where the people inside were dragged out into the street kicking and screaming… and devoured by their captors before everyone's very disbelieving eyes.

On the day that Tereme had sent out cries of help to the outside world and people were kidnapped from their locked up homes by beasts, all of the villagers had then realized what kind of crisis they'd been facing since last week; Yoma, hunters of man, monstrosities of upmost evil, were present.

It'd been four days since Tereme had sent out messengers for help. During those days, the six Yoma who stalked the village streets had eaten around seventeen innocents. Now, after so many murders along with nightmares had been done to them, there were only two dozen villagers left living in their homes today. And soon enough, with the sun presently rising towards noon, the number of survivors would dwindle once more. For as usual, the ritual would commence at noon; the bestial ritual where the Yoma would pick a house or two, invade it and then… no one liked to think about the rest.

As for the Yoma whom had been plaguing Tereme for the last number of days without trouble, who had the settlement in a complete knot of fear today as they'd planned right from the start of their efforts, the six of them were currently in their male human forms while sitting on the roof of the highest house in the community. They were eagerly observing the sun rising into the heavens, wicked smiles on their faces and twinkles in their slitted eyes all the while.

The time was approaching… the time that they would be able to have some fun with the remainder of Tereme's already tormented populace.

Sitting highest amongst the sun gazing yoma on the rooftop was a scrawny yet devious looking figure. From the start of the murders of Tereme's people to this very day, he was known as Bacrast, the leader of the demonic hunting pack around him. And seeing as how effective if not successful this operation had been against the village thanks to his sinister mind, perhaps he would remain the cunning leader if the pack was willing to stay together in the future.

"It won't be long now, fellas." Bacrast rasped to his crew in his very inhuman voice while still looking like a human, his smile widening a bit in the sunlight, "The day is getting hotter, the sun is getting higher, my appetite is getting bigger. Tell me, Henit, do you have any special morsel in mind for today?"

Henit, the larger if not brutish specimen of Yoma amid his cruel fellows at the moment, cackled at his boss's ill question. He flexed his large, clawed hands in front of his face while he spoke his mind to his eager companions. "Oh yes, I actually do have a certain morsel in mind, Bacrast. You know, yesterday, I was bringing my last meal out into the street when I saw someone watching me from a nearby window."

"Really now? A human was watching you?" Bacrast snickered, his eyes alight with vileness, "I suppose it quickly scurried off when it noticed you had seen it, right?"

"That's the thing. The human that watched me didn't run or hide or anything. She didn't even look away when I put on a show of eating my catch. She was a little thing, a child I do say. She was a female that had the look of a doll." Henit sneered, smiling even bigger as he told his sick story, "So, today, while you all go off and do your hunting, I'm going to see about catching me a doll. I'll know her when I see her and if I see any of you trying to ruin my fun, I'll ruin you! Got it?"

"Yes, yes, we understand you, Henit. Keep your temper in check." Bacrast laughed eerily, his voice carrying over the gravely quiet town like a raven cawing over a graveyard, "You can have your doll to play with while the rest of us go and play with the grown-ups. How does that sound?"

There was sneering, ominous laughter from the group of roof sitting Yoma at Bacrast's comment of "doll playing" meant to grind a bit at Henit's status. Henit, knowing his place with his leader, merely snorted to himself before looking back over the village at his mercy. Finally the mirth from the demons died down and they all focused back onto the rising sun.

Soon… Very soon… Tereme would lose another few villagers to the viciousness of the senseless beings known as Yoma since ancient times. After four days of being trapped in their own homes, was there no hope for the people of Tereme? Were they doomed to be eaten one at a time until gone? Had the messengers who'd been sent out last week had any success in getting any kind of help to put an end to this nightmare?

As if thinking of what means could possibly put an end to their rule over Tereme, the lean Yoma called Pasnar curiously asked of his leader, "Boss, I don't mean to question your or anything but why are we always waiting for noon to come around to devour a bit of this village? It's been some days since these humans sent out those scouts for help and we all know we didn't get them all. So… why don't we just finish off everyone here today and move on before any trouble shows up?"

"You mean why don't we move on before one of those half breed Claymore wretches shows up? We don't do that, Pasnar, because I'm the one who is in charge. Remember that." Bacrast growled back, giving his worried minor along with curious crew a dangerous glare, "You're thinking only like a Yoma, Pasnar, you fool. So think about this instead. Since our coming to this place we've had plenty to eat. For the last number of days, we've grown supremely strong together as a result. And seeing as we're so strong, why would we fear any Claymore that comes our way? They usually travel alone. Thus, it'd be easy to pick a lone half breed off with our combined strength."

"That… makes sense." Pasnar admitted, awkwardly scratching his head awkwardly at having had his fears shot down by his cunning leader, "Yeah, you're right, boss. We could definitely destroy a half breed if it came here to ruin our fun."

"Of course we could." Bacrast boldly declared, crossing his arms and looking superior, "In the meantime, I don't want to wipe out this village just yet. We have complete control over its fate and I oh so love this feeling of… domination we have on the humans here. Yes, it's not often that we get to eat when we want to and have some fun at the same time. And after we're done eating this village, we all can move on to another one."

"Staying together sounds like a plan." Henit stated instantly, cackling to himself at having caught on to his boss's unsaid plan, "If we keep doing to other villages what we've done to Tereme here, we won't have to worry about empty stomachs anymore. That's a fact. Ha ha!"

At the thought of them taking over other villages throughout the land, there was wicked laughter shared between the six unified Yoma sitting on the roof. How they – even as demons – could laugh at such a nasty thought as to eating innocent human villagers, only they could understand. Either way, their mirth was abruptly cut short when a seventh yoma of small yet swift stature leaped onto the roof and dashed to them at terrifying speed.

Being so small, the seventh yoma that had appeared to his laughing brethren, the one called Swiffle, was undoubtedly the weakest of the bunch. However, as he'd become known by his kin during the taking over of Tereme, he was clearly the fastest and thus was best suited to scouting out the area along with keeping issues in check while the rest of his kind lounged about waiting for some fun.

Either way, weakest or not, fastest or not, Swiffle came to a screeching halt before the curious eyes of his fellows. Through his panting, his obvious excitement, he had something to say that got all of the yoma quickly on their feet in turn.

"Bacrast! Boss!" Swiffle grunted, looking very enthusiastic and perhaps anxious about something, "There's – there's – there's something coming up the eastern road towards our village!"

"What? _Something_ is coming our way?" Bacrast wondered curiously, standing up with his puzzled brethren following his example, "Not _someone_?"

"Augh, no, no, no, blast it – it – it – it wasn't something I saw." Swiffle snorted, shaking his head and trying to control his shaking body, "It was someone, like you said. Someone, a traveler maybe, is walking along the east road towards Tereme. It cannot be just an ordinary traveler or soldier or human though because I felt a monstrous aura from it and I thought it could be one of our kind coming our way but no, this someone is a human. It's dressed all like one and looks like one and-"

"Shut up with your muttering and grumbling and stuttering and rambling! Tell me, does this traveler carry a large sword, Swiffle? A claymore?" Bacrast questioned coldly, ignoring how all of his brothers intently looked at him in turn, "Well?! Don't stand there gawking! Does our coming guest carry a claymore or not?!"

"Yes." Swiffle admitted, "But not just one, boss… It's got two on its back."

"Two? The half breed has got two claymores?" Henit wondered, looking to Pasnar in confusion, "Never heard that one before."

"Be it two swords or not, a half breed is a half breed and we are stronger than ever. There's seven of us and only one of her." Bacrast declared boldly, rallying his brethren for a fight, "Trust me, we'll rip her apart with ease by today's end-"

"Er, boss, if it's a claymore we're talking about then it's not a female half breed that's coming down the road towards us." Swiffle muttered, wringing his hands together, "It was… It felt like it was a male."

"A male? Not female?" Bacrast repeated, feeling a bit taken off guard, "A male claymore, eh? Well, now I've heard it all. And soon enough, after we all rip him apart, I'll have seen it all."

After he finished speaking, Bacrast began to show his true form to his demonic brothers. The guise that was his human shape began to twitch, convulse, twist into the more muscular, sinewy, powerful form that was his yoma identity. His arms bulged with muscles, his legs lengthened, his height grew by several feet, his face jutted a bit outwards, his eyes shined golden and his teeth morphed into the sharpest of fangs.

Within several heartbeats, Bacrast was no longer human. From the start, naturally, he'd never been human but now he did not even look the part. He was now fully himself. He was a living nightmare as was his pack whom had morphed with him.

"Alright boys, we're going to be having company. Not exactly the best kind of company, mind." Bacrast chuckled in a withering kind of voice that only the yoma could produce, a voice that would only be heard during a human's bad dream but made reality now, "Of course, I'm not the kind of guy who appreciates unannounced visitors. I'm going to show our guest the appropriate greeting in turn. Coming along?"

There were roars of approval from the six other yoma. With a smile of his fangs, Bacrast declared, "Good, good. You all know what to do. Assume your positions. I'll see to our guest. When I need you – IF I need you – I'll give the signal."

There were grunts from the yoma. Then, within the blink of an eye, the demons had vanished.

Once more, the roof tops were empty and silence was all that could be heard throughout the vacant, hopeless town of Tereme. High in the sapphire blue, summer sky, the sun had just reached its zenith. Noon was at hand and thus, the ritual had begun.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Reviews, follows, favs, they all help a writer going.<strong>


	2. Ivan the Terrible

**C****hapter Two: "Ivan the Terrible"**

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><p>Truth be told, having lived for some years already up to this sweltering day, Bacrast wasn't all too nervous when he'd heard from Swiffle that a Claymore was coming up the village road. As a matter of fact, the filthy half breeds known as Claymores – Silver Eyed Slayers, Warriors, Witches – were something of a familiarity to devious him. Indeed, in the past where he'd forever kept to the shadows where it was safer, Bacrast had observed other of his overconfident yoma kind encounter as well as die against the iconic, silver eyed humans who wielded massive swords with speed, power along with skill.<p>

Mind, most if not all of the Claymore warriors Bacrast had witnessed during his twisted existence had been female; frail, beautiful, pale looking humans whose eyes had always spoke volumes of their hardships, loneliness, anger and more. In turn, over the years, it'd become a common fact to Bacrast that the half breed yoma who hunted down the true blood yoma were made up of women.

Today, though, while his six fellows were hidden close by, as he innocently stood in his human form at the front entryway of Tereme watching the east road coming into the village, Bacrast found that his theory was wrong about the Claymores being all females. For in the distance, he could see now that Swiffle had been speaking true back on the rooftop. Indeed, Bacrast could see an armored figure down the road gradually approaching the doomed town, he could tell that the armored figure – even though hooded and cloaked – was male, he could see two massive claymores of shining steel strapped to the male figure's back and most of all… he could feel the nearing stranger's monstrous aura radiating through the air like the heat of the day.

This cloaked stranger who was coming to Tereme without even remotely trying to hide his power from the senses of his prey, this half breed bearing two swords of his hunting organization rather than one, Bacrast could tell that he meant business. Yet, with a sinister smile to himself, Bacrast didn't revert into his yoma form. Instead, with his heart pounding excitedly rather than in fear, he decided not to retreat but to observe the male claymore arrive to Tereme's front gate.

After all, whether he was a man or not, this claymore with two swords was alone and out in the open… while Bacrast's group was hidden and at their strongest.

It took a few minutes more for the cloaked claymore man to make his way to Tereme's front gate. All the while, under Bacrast's focused gaze, he didn't quicken his step or slow down or look around or act like he was suspicious of anything like most any other warrior of his kind would most certainly have done from the very beginning. And what was most shocking about the male claymore was what he did when feet away from the leader of the six other yoma. He didn't spring in to attack but… he swept aside his traveling cloak, stabbed both of his swords into the earth and then sat almost leisurely down with his back against the rooted blades.

At the moment the young claymore man had taken a seat on the ground, Bacrast's mind had launched into a series of confused questions. Back in his past of studying them, he knew no claymore would have done such a thing as sit with enemies present. So, there had to be a reason for the male half breed's curious actions.

What was the purpose of the claymore sitting down then? What was going on? Was this somehow a joke? Was this a test of some kind or a method of measuring the severity of the situation?

Well, in human opinion as sneering Bacrast knew, the severity of the situation in Tereme was dire. After a week of having been assaulted by demons, the people here were seized with fear. And during the last week, after having gotten their fill of flesh, Bacrast knew that his hidden pack of followers were at their absolute strongest. That or they were stronger than ever before in their lives. Thus, seeing as there were seven of them at full strength and just one of him, there was absolutely no way – NONE – that this lone claymore male, although impressive looking, was going to survive his visit to Tereme.

Maybe the young claymore man knew that already? Perhaps he was praying to whatever higher power for a merciful death in the near future? How funny it would be for Bacrast and his group if the sitting claymore was actually surrendering to them. In turn, how much more funny it would be for the half breed to learn that Yoma didn't take prisoners… alive, heh.

"I hope you don't mind me saying so but you look weary, traveler." Bacrast began speaking coolly, not afraid of addressing the seated claymore still in his human form with his pack watching over him nearby in many different places, "Have you had a long walk? Where do you come from?"

"Hah, yeah, I must look more dead than alive right now. I know that the village inn is only several dozen feet away from here. Yet, you see, I've been on my feet for the last four days walking west from the village of Murdock to get here." The claymore male replied not bitterly but with a laugh, making Bacrast feel even more certain that his foe wasn't looking for a fight, "And I gotta tell you, I've heard of being one with nature but jeez… the last few days have been ridiculous for me."

After he got done speaking his piece, the young claymore man pulled back the hood of his traveling cloak to show his face that looked to be in his late twenties in human years. In turn, Bacrast observed the half breed's rather relaxed human features – a sharp nose, white, wind-swept hair cut short that stood up into the air rather than laid down on his head, a pair of eyes as silver as stars at night – with little interest. What he did find interesting, though, was the claymore's disarming smile.

No claymore smiled for nothing. No claymore smiled unless finished with a job and which was a rare sight to be seen by anyone anywhere. So what was going on here? While sitting down with his back propped against his pair of swords, why was this yoma half breed smiling?

Something wasn't right here. Bacrast knew he held the advantage of surprise, of numbers, of strength over this smiling claymore man… So why did something feel off in the yoma pack leader's guts? Maybe it was the relaxed attitude of his foe? Perhaps it had to do with his enemy's now not monstrous but average aura? Where had all of the half breed's strength gone all of a sudden?

"Murdock you say? My oh my, if that town is four days from here than it really must have been quite the hike for you to get here to the middle of nowhere, right?" Bacrast wondered innocently, still trying to keep up the game of him being human rather than beast before the eyes of a claymore for his own amusement, "Still, if I may ask, why have you come out here to the middle of nowhere? Does it have to do with those two swords of yours?"

"Yes, you could say that me being out here has to do with these blades of mine. Forgive me, I haven't made a proper introduction. My name is Ivan. Ivan the Terrible." The male claymore introduced with a wider smile to Bacrast before motioning to the claymores in his possession, "And these beauties you're looking at are Gungnir and Garm. If you forget our names anytime soon, don't worry. I'm quite certain that you and the rest of the occupants of this town will come to be familiar with us by today's end."

"Heh, I'm sure we will, silver eyed Ivan the Terrible." Bacrast said back, feeling his aura starting to grown intense with the way the conversation was going, "And how foolish of me to call you traveler before when clearly you're a claymore who has come to hunt down the yoma here."

"And how foolish for you to have acted human all of this time when you're everything but." Ivan, the male claymore, laughed aloud without fear, "Come on, drop the act and show me what you've become since the day you and your comrades chose this unfortunate village as your feeding ground last week. You know you want to. Face me openly, not cowardly."

Within the blink of an eye, with a heartbeat, within a breath, Bacrast no longer stood as a human with Ivan at the village front gate but as the muscular, hardened, demonic yoma creature that he was. Like back on the rooftop, his legs had lengthened, his arms now bulged with veins and muscle, his slitted eyes shined gold in the sunlight, his rows of sharp teeth reinforced his eerie grin.

However, no matter how intimidating his adversary, Ivan never moved, gasped or showed weakness towards the newly shown yoma. Rather, he studied Bacrast for a long moment before shrugging his shoulders to himself along with looking disappointed.

"What a waste of time. What a waste of human life." Ivan sighed, shaking his head ruefully, "Last week, in Murdock, I listened to several runners of Tereme the horrors that had happened here last week. As I expected, here you yoma have been causing trouble and murdering good people in this village for the last seven days and… then I get here to find that none of you monsters are a fourth as strong as I thought. You've squabbled your time here, yoma. Your fun is over, as is your existence."

Such confidence was not something that Bacrast had expected to hear from the claymore man after he'd turned into his bestial form. Not only that, the yoma pack leader was instantly infuriated by Ivan's scolding lecture of how he as well as his pack of hunters were supposedly weak. Too weak to be taken seriously by a lone half breed who was sitting on the ground unarmed, outnumbered and open for any kind of attack.

"Ah, so some of the messengers of this little village found you in Murdock, half breed? I suppose you used big words to reassure those fools that you would make a difference here. And now you're still using big words, although you're only a lone half breed who has been walking for the last four days to a dead town and is now tired out." Bacrast rasped patiently, trying not to let a overconfident half breed get the best of him, "But that's all you're going to be, half breed. You're just big words, no action. You're too tired to take this village from me or my fellows who have you surrounded. You're the fool who didn't take a day to rest before coming here to fight. That'll be your last mistake in this life."

"Hmf, so you admit that you have accomplices? How nice of you to dash my doubts. The messengers said something about being assailed by a number of yoma while coming to Murdock for help. As for me walking four days, I cannot take a day to rest." Ivan admitted simply, shrugging to himself again, "Not when I know that there are humans dying in the meantime. No, not dying… being ripped apart for no particular reason by pitiless creatures that go by the names of yoma."

"And why do you care about what happens to the humans here? What do you and your other claymore friends care about what we yoma do?" Bacrast growled in a sneer, flexing his claws, "You're a half breed. You're not either of the two species you're talking about. You're not human and you're not yoma. You're something else completely and I will tell you what you will soon enough be, though."

"I'll be dead, right?" Ivan laughed, saying what Bacrast was going to say a moment ago, "Honestly, can you yoma not be any more original? Do you have any idea how many times you monsters have told me that over the years? Dozens if not hundreds by now have said I'm going to die... and yet, here I still am."

Dozens if not hundreds of times, this Ivan character had been told by yoma that he was going to be dead soon? That was a bluff. It had to be! Right? Yes, seeing with how very lacking of action he was at the moment, Ivan just had to be bluffing! He was full of BLUFFS!

Well, Bacrast was no fool. He was going to shut this half breed up for good! And he was going to do so without his pack's help!

"All of my fellows out there, listen to what I have to say!" Bacrast roared out to the surrounding prairie land and houses, achieving a volume that only something like a yoma could and not a human, "None of you will be needed. I'll kill this runt on my own. None of you interfere or I'll skin you alive!"

Silence was what answered Bacrast's orders. A silence that Ivan understood too for he looked a little impressed.

"I see. So not only is there more than one yoma in this area… but they haven't been independent for the last week. They've had a leader." The male claymore said, looking to Bacrast expectedly, "You?"

"Yes. I'm their leader, half breed. I've been their leader for quite a time now." Bacrast declared, brimming with proud energy that he was sure couldn't be matched, "And this village is just the beginning of an army. After my pack has eaten what can be eaten here, we'll move on to the next settlement of morsels and have our fill. Heck, you've just given me the next town to go to; lovely Murdock. I'll even begin recruiting other yoma on my way there!"

Going with the moment, moving at unbelievable speed, Bacrast dashed forward towards Ivan who was still seated upon the ground! This was it! On this day, Bacrast would defeat a male claymore, ensure his position as leader over his fellows, devour the rest of Tereme and move on to become a true monster in the future! Yes, how wonderful, how spectacular, how delicious, how – Huh?

Bacrast's thoughts of glory, flesh and blood were brought to a screeching halt when he realized Ivan was no longer sitting on the ground before him. Apart for his shredded traveling cloak in the yoma leader's flexing claws, the male claymore had vanished from sight! Furiously, shredding the rest of the cloak in his hands and throwing it aside, Bacrast skidded to a halt on the road, looked around, then couldn't help but feel shocked to see Ivan sitting leisurely at the village entrance; the place where Bacrast had been standing before dashing forward towards the claymore seconds ago!

And now that he was rid of his traveling cloak, Ivan the Terrible's true appearance as a claymore was visible to the world. His tall, muscled, toned, tanned body was armored in silver plate mail, radiating brilliantly in the sunlight like a pearl lying out in the open on the shore of a beach. Even by his enemies, he was truly quite the sight to be beheld.

Yet, with all of that armor weighing him down… this was impossible. In matter of seconds, unknowingly, it had been like Ivan as well as Bacrast had swapped their positions without the yoma leader even being aware of it. Yet, how had that occurred without Bacrast's knowing? Having traveled for the last four days, with his meager power level, how had the young claymore man up and vanished from the yoma pack leader's keen sight?

Was Ivan… was he… had he actually been so fast a moment ago that he'd literally dodged Bacrast's assault as silent and fast as the wind? No… NO, the half breed didn't have nearly as strong an aura as Bacrast! This little disappearing act had just been some sort of illusion, some sort of magic, some sort of pure luck on Ivan's part.

"You should know that you're going to lose this fight, yoma. You already lost when you decided to stay here in the village and face me rather than run." Ivan spoke grimly, making Bacrast hesitate attacking again for a second, "It's true, I've come out here to the middle of nowhere today. Nevertheless, a claymore is never sent anywhere without reason. A claymore doesn't arrive anywhere without purpose."

Bacrast blinked his eyes. Then he snarled when he saw that Ivan was gone again. He didn't have far to look for the slippery claymore. Not when the half breed was literally standing on his shoulders with his two swords in his hands.

How… how had the half breed gotten there without being seen? Magic? Illusions? Agility? Who knew. Who could even begin to guess.

"My reason for being here in Tereme should be obvious to you and your fellows hiding everywhere. That's why you were here waiting for me while I walked up to this village's front door." Ivan stated above suddenly uncertain Bacrast, "I've come here to end the nightmare, to save the people, to clean out the trash. I've come to make sure you never do to any other village what you've done to Tereme. I've come here for a fight. A fight that you creatures can't win."

"Big words…" Bacrast growled, shaking with pent up fury at being talked down to and shown up by a half breed, "Big words… FROM A TIRED OUT HALF BREED!"

The yoma pack leader shook himself violently to get rid of his supposed superior. Then, as Ivan hopped down onto the ground behind the shaking yoma leader, with monstrous might behind his blow, with his own inhuman agility, Bacrast whirled around to slash the claymore man to ribbons!

The only problem was… that Ivan wasn't there anymore for confused Bacrast to strike.

**THWOCK!**

"Eh?" Bacrast managed to wonder in bewilderment, looking dumbly down at his chest where two claymores – Gungnir and Garm – were piercing him through his back and Ivan stood with them in his hands, "How did you… get behind… me… What… what… I don't…"

In a single moment, no matter how strong he'd felt beforehand, all of the fight had left Bacrast after the two lethal blows from Ivan's Gungnir and Garm blades. Next, the yoma pack leader slumped to the ground on his knees, his mind whirling with questions and disbeliefs.

This male claymore, Ivan, was powerful? Oh yes, he was powerful. His aura… it wasn't meager anymore but vast and endless. Earlier, as he'd been sitting against his swords, he'd kept it low to make it seem like he was weak and to lure his enemies into a false sense of sureness. That'd been his plan from the very start and Bacrast had walked right into it. Now the yoma leader was down for the count. Yet, he wouldn't die without doing one last thing.

"Curses…" Bacrast growled, feeling Ivan's silver eyes on the back of his head, "I seems that you… that you got me… half breed…"

"Of course I did." Ivan actually chuckled, a humble smile coming onto his pale face, "I'm Ivan the Terrible, after all. Out here in the middle of nowhere, I've come to end you. And so, you have been ended."

"Perhaps I have been." Bacrast snickered, then roared out, "BROTHERS, FINISH THE HALF – ERK!"

In a shower of yoma blood, with a clean if not invisibly speedy withdrawal of his blades from his prey's body and then a beautiful horizontal slash, Ivan beheaded Bacrast mid-yell. Then, as Bacrast's furiously expression of a head rolled away from the slumping body, several things happened in quick succession. Firstly, as if he were a vicious top, Ivan whirled his claymores in a menacing spin around him. Secondly, being the first to answer their leader's words and enter the fray of battle, Swiffle and Pasnar were ripped into shreds in the spinning maelstrom of blades. Thirdly, Ivan took a moment to clean off his blades on the ground during the resulting silence.

"That's three yoma." The claymore man said aloud, finishing cleaning his swords meanwhile, "That leaves just the four of you."

Standing rigid before the claymore surrounded by the bloody remains of their brethren, Henit and the three remaining yoma didn't have a chance to even try to put up a good fight. Not when both Gungnir and Garm were thrown forward, skewered a gawking yoma in the face each, then their wielder began beating the living energy out of Henit and the other surviving yoma with his bare fists.

Oh but was Ivan really just using his bare fists? Judging by the way his punches left gashes in the defending yoma and tore them up with ease… No, the claymore wasn't just punching flesh with flesh. He was punching flesh with his spiked gauntlet knuckles.

In a heartbeat, shaking with pain and fear, Henit was the only yoma left breathing. Seconds ago, with a sickening crack of bone, his companion's head had been literally torn off by a well-placed punch from Ivan. Now with only the grim silence of Tereme to be heard, after a matter of moments, there was only Henit the cruel to stand against the monstrous might of Ivan the Terrible.

Mind, not much fighting happened during this time. Not when Henit actually saw he had no chance of winning the feud and began to beg for mercy.

"Alright, I see now… None of us stood a chance against you, whatever you are." The last yoma began to ramble, taking a step back from Ivan intently watching him, "I've also seen the error of my ways. Tell you what, if you let me go then I promise to never – GYARGH!"

Henit flew off of his feet, rolled across the ground, then was left to feel the aching spot where he'd been punched across the face. Using speed unmatched, Ivan had literally almost teleported before the pleading yoma and delivered a savage right hook to the beast's mouth. All done because Ivan hadn't shown mercy since he'd been made a claymore many years back… and wasn't about to be interested in doing so now.

For the grim claymore man knew the ways of the yoma better than most anyone else alive. He knew that if the tables were turned at the moment… Henit would not have listened to his own pleading for mercy. Not that he would ever beg for mercy from such monsters. No, he would bring as many of them with him as possible if ever faced with death.

"Don't say anything else, yoma." Ivan coldly cut across Henit's blubbering, retrieving Garm and Gungnir from the yoma they'd impaled moments ago, "Just accept your fate. For you of all things do not deserve to speak the word "mercy". Not when you have not shown any to this village for the last week."

Using his monster speed, Henit actually tried to make his getaway while Ivan was getting his swords back. This proved to be a futile plan when, with careless ease it seemed, the claymore appeared before the retreating monster, kicked it squarely in the chest and knocked it back down onto the ground where it coughed roughly.

As Henit coughed, Ivan the Terrible shook his head. Such a disgusting existence… the yoma had. To devour, to destroy, then try to squirm away when their judgment days came for them.

"No, look, I – I'll change!" Henit whined, sounding fearful as Ivan raised his two blades into the air for the last blow, "I swear it! Please, don't kill me!"

"Shut up." Ivan stated, not at all buying what he was being told, "Shut up and die quietly, beast."

Yet, as he looked to finish his mission of ridding Tereme of yoma, something made Ivan pause in finishing the job. His senses had abruptly picked up something to his right at the village entrance and, out of instinct, his focus turned towards there where a familiar sight greeted his eyes.

Standing at Tereme's front entrance were people, the survivors of the last horrific week who had come outdoors to see what was going on. All of them were thin, depressed, sickly looking. All of them had clearly not been able to sleep for quite some time… and after having done so much claymore work already, Ivan knew that they wouldn't be able to do so for who knew how long.

Even with the yoma gone, their lives would be forever changed. They would never be the same villagers of Tereme like a week ago.

"RAUGH!" Henit roared out slashing Ivan away from him and, at seeing the gathered villagers, making a dash for the village entrance, "Your hesitation is your downfall, half breed!"

In a flash of movement, with screams from everyone, as Ivan observed, Henit seized a hostage from the panicking masses; a little girl of ten years old who had the appearances of a doll with blue eyes, golden brown skin, sapphire blue eyes and blonde locks of hair cascading down her face. And although in the clutches of a monster, the doll like girl didn't scream or wail or even show fear. Instead, to Ivan's silent wonder, she looked at him resolutely.

Such a gaze as the little girl's… spoke only one thing; she was ready to die. She was ready for him to kill her to get to the yoma. If required, anyway.

"Ha ha ha! You can't do anything to me now, half breed! Nothing!" Henit screamed, holding his child hostage close to him by her hair as he began to back away from Ivan, "Heh heh! We're done here. And look, I get to take this little lunch with me. How ironic for you, eh?"

"Fools." Ivan chuckled, shaking his head, "Every last one of you yoma are fools."

"What?" Henit wondered, pausing for a moment in what he was doing.

"After all I've done to your comrades… After all I've shown you… You really think this is how this battle is going to end?" Ivan stated, still chuckling while taking a step forward, "You're a fool, yoma. You and your species. I am Ivan the Terrible. No matter what you do, I am your end."

"Stop! Don't take another step!" Henit snarled, putting his claws to the still unafraid doll of a girl's neck, "Take one more step and this little thing gets bled like a-"

**THWACK!**

"Huh…?"

At first, simply, it seemed like nothing had happened to Henit. True, a moment ago, he'd felt something like a poking sensation on his neck. Yet, it hadn't been that big of a deal to worry about. Then, he slowly registered that he wasn't holding his hostage anymore. She was now in Ivan's embrace who now stood inches away rather than feet.

"Why… why can't I move..?" Henit wondered to himself, seeing Ivan had come so close to him within the blink of an eye, "How did that half breed… get so close… without me… seeing him do… so…"

Next, ever so slowly, Henit's feelings numbed and his vision blurred. This was due to his head having popped from his shoulders in a shower of blood and hitting the ground with his lifeless body.

Silence. Deathly silence. For the longest time, that was all that was heard throughout Tereme when the last yoma fell dead to the ground. Then, with a flourish of his swords, Ivan sheathed away his weapons onto his back and turned to the citizens around him.

"Your trials are over. Your nightmares have come to an end." He said to the villagers, smiling a small smile that he knew all the while would do little good to ease their grief, "The yoma are gone. You're free of their bloodlust."

Again, there was only silence at Ivan's words. Then there came sobs, weeping, crying from the villagers. At seeing so much carnage for the last week, at seeing the yoma were dead at long last, people wept openly with relief, with distress, with sadness.

Mind, no matter the negativity of the weeping, it was all familiar to Ivan. For he'd done it before. Yes, he'd done so countless times… Before he'd become a claymore… Yes, yes, yes… Before he'd become Ivan the Terrible…

"Are you alright, little one?" Ivan got around to asking the doll like girl he had at his side, "Yes, you look okay. Tell me… you had a history with that yoma, didn't you? That's why he pick you out of the crowd, no?"

"I…" The dollish girl mumbled, not crying or anything but staying quieter than everyone else, "Yesterday, the yoma… I saw it eat-"

"Someone you held dear?" Ivan sighed, "Someone like family, a friend, a loved one?"

"Yes…" The doll girl muttered, looking towards her feet, "It ate… my cousin."

"And now, it will do no such thing to you or anyone else here." Ivan stated, hugging the girl tighter to him for a moment, "Do you understand me? You are safe now."

"Really?" The girl mumbled, tears suddenly streaming from her glassy eyes, " T-thank y-you…"

"Hm. You shouldn't thank me." Ivan replied, allowing the little girl to put her face into his side and cry openly while he looked grimly to hurting people of ruined Tereme, "I wouldn't thank me at least. Although I wasn't even supposed to, I came here as fast as I could. Yet, I still arrived… a bit too late for your sake. For this entire village's sake."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Reviews, Follows, Favs, they all help a writer keep going.<strong>


	3. Moving On

**C****hapter Three: "Moving Onward"**

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><p>Six times the sun had descended behind the golden horizon and the moon had risen into the starry night sky in turn. Thus, with dusk near at hand on the seventh day now, it'd been six days in total since Tereme had been purged of yoma and the lives of the villager's had been spared of a gruesome fate. All of which was thanks to the valiant efforts of Ivan the Terrible. Of course, as they'd seen it with their own eyes then, only the surviving Teremian villagers described the male claymore's actions as heroic… while he'd humbly kept repeating to everyone who'd congratulated him that he'd simply performed the duty as expected of his kind. All without thought of valor, of payment, of reward.<p>

"I don't need your money. Claymores do not need such things." He'd had to keep explaining to commoners that had brought him a sum of currency, "No, give the money to your chief and have him hold onto it. A man in black will show up shortly to take the gold."

Yet, whether he'd liked rewards or not though, during the last seven days since he'd killed Bacrast and his group of yoma followers single handedly, since he'd led and protected the grim survivors of Tereme back across the plains to Murdock where they'd been fed, sheltered along with brought back to life by their friends for the past four days, isolate Ivan hadn't been able to keep people from thanking him.

Truly, even with his telling them they hadn't needed to do so, the appreciative villagers of both Murdock as well as Tereme had blessed the duel-blade wielding claymore man with food, drink, objects of value, respect and the best room available which he'd very well rested within last night.

Naturally, to any claymore alive these days, even after having saved them, being shown such affection from commoners wasn't something familiar. And when it was shown, it was a bit odd to get used to. Nevertheless, seeing as he'd been fighting demons for a long while without rest, considering how the villagers were intent on letting him know their gratitude for ridding them of the yoma, Ivan had allowed himself to watch all of Murdock gossip about his strength, celebrate his supposed heroics, toast to his honor and feast in his name all night long on the sixth day.

In the meantime, while the claymore man watched everything unfold before him, many a thought had run through his acute mind.

The villages of Tereme and Murdock. Although smalltime along with out in the middle of nowhere, they were undoubtedly good communities to be a part of. Ivan had been traveling for quite a time during his worldwide campaigns as a claymore. He'd won many victories, suffered losses, witnessed fantastic sights and participated in various celebrations despite his grim profession. Still, he hadn't seen happier commoners than here in a long time. Not since he'd journeyed south long ago.

Ah, the southern lands. They'd been quite the realm to explore back in the day when the world had seemed clearer, the times had felt more peaceful and claymores hadn't been made into such grave soldiers in the minds of the populace.

The partying in Ivan's honor had eventually ground to an end during the night of the sixth day since Tereme's salvation. Now, as the dawn of the seventh day was brightening, the happiness of the citizens of Murdock was drawing to a depressed close. For as it had always went since the first generation of claymore warriors had been made during graver days, as he needed to do so now as a silver eyed slayer himself, Ivan the Terrible was prepared to depart Murdock. For as a claymore, he had a responsibility to uphold; a responsibility to prevent anymore Tereme situations from transpiring.

Presently breathing in the cool, autumn morning air in unison, the citizens of Tereme and Murdock who were able and not ill from the earlier party were gathering together out on the village grounds to see their claymore guest off. Inside of the village's inn's – the Sweetest Apple's – best room available, Ivan the Terrible stood fully ready to travel in the sunlight of the strengthening dawn's sun. Indeed, like he'd appeared to Bacrast back in Tereme, the claymore man once again wore a brand new traveling cloak of brown over his steel armored self with his hair swept back, his silver eyes shining, his swords sheathed on his back and his lips… forming a small smile for his own reasons.

"No more resting. No more hiding. It… is… time to bite the blade, face the pain and accept reality." Ivan the Terrible murmured to himself, looking out through the window over Murdock being bathed in growing golden light outside, "I have saved the village of Tereme. I have waited long enough for Rubel to come to me… I now know, after seven days of waiting, that it is I that must go to him. Then when I find him, I will hear the consequences of my recent actions."

As if in deepening thought, keeping a blank face, Ivan raised a spiked, gauntlet protected hand before his glinting eyes where he clenched and unclenched his fingers. He did the same thing with his other hand. Then, invisibly fast to any human eyes if they'd been present to witness him do it in his room, he withdrew both of Garm as well as Gungnir from their holsters with unrivaled speed, spun them in his fingers with a wicked whir, paused with them held firmly in his hands, then returned the brilliant blades back to their respective spots.

"Alas, I will find Rubel today." The young claymore man repeated coolly in the morning light, a small smile still visible on his face for reasons only he knew of, "I will find him somewhere at some time… and he will enlighten me what punishment I shall be given for having saved Tereme last week rather than joined number two through five in subduing dearest Teresa of the Faint Smile."

Next, Ivan broke into an easy going chuckle that soon broke into humored laughter. Shaking with mirth, he couldn't help but lean on the nearby dresser for support while he snickered honestly, "Ha ha, not that Teresa could be subdued by anyone anyway. Even with my help, hah! Oh well… I can't ignore her forever. I have to get back on the road, have Rubel tell me to track her down along with the same old, same old, same old about me not being my own master. Hmf."

"Mr. Ivan the Terrible, sir?" A voiced squeaked through the inn room door, making Ivan not focus anymore on the prospect of meeting his man in black – Rubel – in the near future, "If you're awake, uh, we have breakfast downstairs for you. A last gift to you before you get back to traveling – Oh, um, you're already dressed and everything?"

As Ivan walked out into the inn hall, he came to understand that the squeak of a voice's owner was in fact a younger man in his mid-teens. He also recognized that the nervous teen, Ulrich Squires, was someone he'd come to know if not respect for the last few days. Especially during last night's craziness. Indeed, during the celebration feasting last night, it'd been Ulrich who had saved the crowded claymore man from being included into any uncomfortable partying by having brought him to the Sweetest Apple. There, Ulrich's parents, Heduric and Mellisa, other people Ivan had come to favor during his stay in Murdock, had hidden the claymore man away in their best room where he'd been given food, privacy along with some much needed sleep without charge.

During his visit to Murdock, the Squires had been good people to Ivan. In turn, as uncommon a sight as it was to be beheld, the inn keeping family had witnessed their claymore guest smile his small smile many times in gratitude.

"No need for breakfast, Ulrich, my companion." Was Ivan's content reply to nervous Ulrich's declaration that breakfast was prepared downstairs, closing the door to his room behind him meanwhile, "Truly, your family has given me enough already for having helped Tereme. I do not require anything more of you before I leave on this day."

"Uh, um, well, my mother isn't going to take well to hearing that. Not one bit." Ulrich chuckled, stepping hurriedly out of Ivan's way as the claymore began purposefully making his way out of the inn, "Seriously, don't let her get a hold of you, Ivan. If required, she's set on putting her hands on you and making you sit down to eat."

"Time is of the essence for my kind, Ulrich. I've spent too much time here in Murdock watching over the health of the survivors of Tereme." Ivan answered, stepping out of the hall and into the inn's main lobby, "I've known for many a day now that the folk of Tereme will be safe here. Therefore, considering my duties and what they entail, your mother will understand that I must be off as soon as possible today. As soon as possible meaning NOW."

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you meant by as soon as possible." Ulrich admitted, sounding a little dispirited that the claymore man who wielded two blades was intent on making farewells brief this morning, "When you claymores have gotta go then you gotta go… Or so I imagine."

"You sound… sad over my leaving, Ulrich. It is either we claymores keep moving or allow the yoma to do as they like elsewhere." Ivan said, stopping in his tracks for a moment to turn and seriously face Ulrich following him, "I know that your family is not dumb about anything, my fellow. I have spent a week both in Tereme and here in Murdock. During that week, other dire situations have undoubtedly arisen in other lands. Situations that only MY kind can alone attend to. That I must especially attend to."

"I understand, I understand. I meant nothing bad by the way I said anything sadly." Ulrich quickly explained, looking a bit intimidated, "It's just that… I've always heard claymores were quite a bit, well… like the yoma they hunted. They didn't participate in anything else but killing demons. They're supposedly isolate. You, though… you've been rather, well, human during your time in Murdock."

"When you are a claymore, there is a time to be a yoma… and then there is a time to be human." Ivan admitted, smiling his small smile, "Facing danger, I was yoma in Tereme. When the danger had passed, I was human in Murdock. Although others would disagree with me, there is a time and place for everything. Even for my kind."

"I think you're human most each time you smile like that." Ulrich said, smiling his own smile, "That's another thing about you, Ivan. I always thought claymores didn't smile about anything good… Not until you came here, anyway."

"Hearing about something is one thing. Seeing them is a completely different experience." Ivan explained, proud to see his smile had a positive effect like wanted, "Fantasy and reality. They are two very different things when put together. And very much so, I believe I am quite different than any other claymore in the world."

"Different for the better?" Ulrich wondered softly.

"What kind of question is that for my son to be asking the savior of Tereme?!" A female voice abruptly roared across the inn's main lobby, making Ulrich nearly jump out of his skin and Ivan break into a new smile, "Of course that claymore with you, Ulrich, is different for the better! I've only seen one other claymore in my lifetime and she wasn't nearly as respectable as this man who calls himself Ivan the Terrible. And speaking of his name, oh, by the gods, he's been just so _terrible_ to us during his visit."

Trailed by her softly laughing husband, scolding her son, jolly round Melissa – the plump, good natured cook and cleaner of the Sweetest Apple inn with raven black hair, green eyes – stormed from out of the kitchens in the back of the building. With a firm grunt, she embraced Ivan in her thick arms, gave him a rib cracking hug, then began wringing her greasy hands in her apron while she went on speaking in her booming voice that Ivan had come to know so well during his brief stay in Murdock.

"Don't mind my foolish son, Ivan the oh so Terrible." Melissa stated, patting her son hard on his shoulder, "Actually, don't think that he gets the foolishness from me. He gets it from his father here."

"Well, if being foolish is wrong then I don't want to be right. Either way, my foolishness ended up winning your heart in the end. Didn't it, dearest?" Heduric chortled cunningly with a confident shine in his brown eyes, a humble man as equally plump as his wife along with dressed in the same kitchen outfit as her, "Besides, our son's innocent foolishness isn't such a bad thing. Why he's caught the sympathy and attention of most every young lady in our fair village lately, hasn't he?"

"Foolishness is foolishness, you oaf." Melissa huffed, giving her husband a stern look, "You're just lucky that I managed to get a hold of you before any other girl used you like the fool you are!"

"And in time, our son will attract just as caring a woman as you to his side, dearest." Heduric laughed, not taking his wife's seriousness seriously, "Just you watch and see. I'm never wrong."

"Wait, what? I'm going to end up being with a girl that's like mom?" Ulrich exclaimed, showing a bit of sudden uncertainty at the idea.

"And what would be wrong with that, my son?" Heduric wondered sagely.

"Are you seriously asking me that?!" Ulrich almost shouted, looking frightened, "It's bad enough having one mom in my life but to have two-"

"And that's quite enough out of you, young man!" Melissa growled, pushing her son towards the back of the building, "Go back to the kitchens and fetch our guest his breakfast before he leaves. Go on, go on."

"About breakfast, I have no time to sit down and eat this morning, friends." Ivan explained to his companions, shaking his head and keeping stubborn Melissa from speaking her mind by holding up his hand to cut her off, "Truly, I appreciate the offer and everything else you've done for me but I cannot delay my duties any longer. I must be off to ensure that no more villages suffer like Tereme did. I feel greatly relieved knowing that Murdock will allow the Teremians to stay here for as long as they need to while recovering. For the meals you've given those hurt people already and the meals you'll give them in the near future, you have my gratitude."

As Ivan showed his gratitude to the Squires couple with a quick bow, Melissa couldn't help but say, "Honestly, I really did meet another claymore during my younger days… and she did not at all behave in the manner you've behaved since arriving here, Ivan. Any village visited by you will be fortunate."

"Indeed. Why is it that you seem more human than anything else?" Heduric asked curiously of Ivan, "I've heard the rumors from the other villagers of how you showed those yoma in Tereme who was a monster… but I can't really believe it with how you've acted around here. You're a friend to us commoners, not a beast."

"Alas, I do not have an answer for that. Simply put, other claymores are other claymores. I am me, however. I have not forgotten where I came from years ago. I will never forget, no matter the passing of time." Ivan said with a shrug like what he was discussing was common logic, "Friendliness, not hostility, has always succeeded in all things of this world. Well, amongst humans, anyway."

"Here's your breakfast, Ivan." Ulrich declared, coming out of the kitchens with several trays of food.

"Foolish boy! How do you expect Ivan the Terrible to eat food on the road when it's on trays?" Melissa shouted, running her son back into the kitchen where she went on yelling out of sight, "Quick, grab some boxes and wrappings so that we can give the claymore his food on the go!"

"WHAT?! But you never said anything about him taking it with him on the-"

"Silence! Now go, go, go!"

Ivan shared a small laugh with Heduric at the theatrics of the Squires family, something that had become familiar to the young claymore man during his last few days. Next, the Squires father asked of his departing guest, "There is nothing around these parts apart for the city of Lyrall to the north. That would be a two day walk. Is that where you are bound to today?"

"More or less. I could get there or not in two days. It all depends." Ivan said, becoming a bit distant to the conversation due to his thoughts of the future, "It will all come down to whom I shall meet on the… road. What I expect to be my real aim today or soon will be will be to track down, er, meet an old friend of mine."

"Meet an old friend you say?" Heduric said, taking notice of the distant look in Ivan's eyes, "Ah, I know that look of yours, Ivan the Terrible… I've seen it on the faces of many travelers who have come and gone from this inn during my years running it. This friend you're going to meet… he means a lot to you, doesn't he?"

"I will not lie, the friend we speak of meant a lot to me in the past. Only in the past." Ivan admitted, his eyes assuming a hardened glint next moment which took Heduric a bit off guard, "And the friend is not a he but a she. When the time of our meeting comes… we'll have a bit of talking to do."

"I… I see." Heduric said softly, quietly knowing by Ivan's fiery eyes that it wasn't only going to be talking that he would do with his lady friend in the future but perhaps unfavorably more, "Then I wish you and her the best of fortune and the least of worries. Is that alright of me to wish?"

There was a moment where Ivan seemed to register what Heduric had said to him. When he'd realized that the Squires father had wished him luck with what the future would bring his way, the young claymore man smiled his small smile.

Yes, it was very much appreciated that Heduric had unknowingly wished the best of fortune and the littlest of worry for what was destined to happen between Ivan the Terrible and Teresa of the Faint Smile when they met. For seeing as Teresa had suddenly rebelled against the organization last week and was, as number one, undoubtedly still alive – despite numbers two through five hunting her – Ivan would still be the only warrior able to possibly face her… and ultimately decide her fate.

That or she would decide his fate. After all, since they'd first met in training as teens, Ivan and Teresa had been the fiercest of rivals and the best fighters of the organization. Now, years later since training, the fight they would have to commence wherever in the near future… would be superb if not legendary in the end. No matter how it ended.

"Ah, here is your breakfast, my friend. You are all set to go now." Heduric announced, allowing both his hurried wife along with son to give Ivan his food for the road although he wasn't one for eating like all of the claymores of today, "And I know it goes without saying but you will always be welcome here at the Sweetest Apple Inn of Murdock, Ivan the Terrible. May the gods always watch over you, wherever the winds of fate take you."

"Goodbye, Ivan. Good luck. May the gods protect you." Ulrich said after his father, bowing respectfully.

"Be sure to come back here, you hear? It's impolite to not come visit your friends every so often. It's even more rude to forget your friends. So don't go forgetting us neither." Melissa stated, bowing a second before straightening up along with putting her hands on her hips firmly.

And so, with his well-intended breakfast in hand, with a last small smile of his, with the Squires escorting him out of their inn, with the people of Murdock bowing their respects to him as he walked out of their village, Ivan the Terrible – he who wielded two claymores, who slew seven yoma with ease – began traveling north towards the city Lyrall. And as he walked along, as he felt the morning air cool his senses, as he smiled to himself in the sunlight, the young claymore man praised by Tereme and Murdock felt deep down… that he would be sure to return to this isolate province someday.

Yes, sometime in the future, be it through mission or wandering, he would go back to the Sweetest Apple Inn where friends would surely be there to welcome him inside.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Reviews, Follows, Favs, they all help a writer keep going.<strong>


	4. Number One

**C****hapter Four: "Number One"**

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><p>As Heduric had said to Ivan in the Sweetest Apple Inn, the closest civilization to the villages of Murdock as well as Tereme was a two day march north on foot. By the end of those two days, the city of Lyrall would be visible; a rather average, stone walled community of several hundred years in age that was home to just over seven hundred souls today. It was wisely built alongside the bountiful Seidon River that ran south from the northernmost Shimmer Mountains and thus, made most of its coin from the passing waters along with the many lumber camps, saw mills as well as woodcutters that worked at chopping down the nearby Veil Forest into usable wood.<p>

Put simply, where other cities were known to have respectable if not formal figures in society, Ivan was bound to the city known not for its politicians but for its happy hunters, fishermen and lumberjacks. Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course. It felt good to the claymore man that he was going to visit a content commoner city rather than a seedy, greedy one of nobles.

Truth be told, Ivan the Terrible had only visited Lyrall once in his life and that had actually been during last week where the trouble with Teresa rebelling along with Tereme's need of help had just reached his ears at the same moment. Now though, with Tereme saved like he'd decided to do seven days ago rather than join up with numbers two through five elsewhere, the young claymore man knew that he was bound to begin tracking the maiden of the Faint Smile one way or the other.

Indeed, whether he wanted to or not, even if the organization was so very irritated over his recent actions of disobeying them last week, by today's end… Ivan knew for certain that he would run into a certain man in black on the road. As it'd become predictable over the years, that certain man in black would then lecture Ivan about his rebelliousness, tell him the same old things that he'd been told since becoming a claymore. Then, the man in black would slap Ivan the Terrible on the wrist like the bad boy he was before telling him to join up with numbers two through five – Promising Priscilla, Quicksword Ilena, Muscular Sophia and Wind Storm Noel – in subduing number one.

Still, would that really be the case? Considering it had been a week since Ivan had parted ways in Lyrall with his charge and the organization's pet, Priscilla, by handing her over to Ilena who had come bearing news of Teresa's desertion and what needed to be done about her… was Teresa of the Faint Smile still a threat to the organization?

In other words, had numbers two through five succeeded in taking down number one during the last seven days while Tereme had been saved?

In other other words… As Ivan had thought to himself when he'd placed her crying in Ilena's charge before moving on to slay the yoma in Tereme, had Priscilla – the young lady he had been ordered to train for the last few months since her certification, who was bound to surpass number one, who he had come to see as something of a little sister to him – taken Teresa's head yet?

Yes and no.

For the most part, since he had trained with her in most every way back when he'd been recruited into the organization as a teen, Ivan was leaning towards "no" on Pricilla having bested Teresa. For she of the Faint Smile was like Ivan; experienced, undying, unrivaled and number one.

Truly, despite the mysteriousness of him not having been visited by a man in black for the last week, Ivan the Terrible believed somewhere deep down inside of himself that his longtime rival, Teresa, was alive somewhere. And now that he was free to do so, the young claymore man as well as Gungnir and Garm upon his back would be coming for her to execute the organization's most vital law.

Or so everyone would think. To himself at the moment, knowing he was the only possible means to bringing her down, Ivan couldn't help but excitedly think of how strong number one had become over the years. Heck, although he hadn't seen Teresa in years… he would most likely have to use one of his swords rather than two against her for a change. After all, knowing the techniques and agility she'd possessed when training as a recruit to be the top claymore alive as well as beat him, Ivan the Terrible would have no choice but to use only one of the two of his blades during his battle with she of the Faint Smile. It would be his only way of matching her legendary speed now.

"Matching Teresa's speed." Perhaps that was the reason that Ivan, by noon, had taken a moment to stop on the side of the road where the open prairie lands had started to become forested. That or it was the sound of moving water in the distance that made him turn off of the beaten path into the shade of the forest to his right, walk through the foliage for several moments along with decide to rest his feet when he finally discovered a most beautiful sight; a sparkling spring with a waterfall cascading down from dozens of feet above.

For whatever his reasons for getting off the road, this natural beauty of a site was most enjoyable to the eyes and ears of Ivan. Thus, he couldn't simply turn around and leave the place now that he'd discovered it. Several minutes later, he'd deposited his swords onto the ground, drank his fill of refreshing spring water, nibbled a bit on the enjoyable breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage as well as pancakes he'd been given by the Squires family during early morning… before he was back on his feet again with Garm held tightly in his right hand. Then, readying for combat, he held it in both of his hands.

"Fighting the yoma of Tereme was too easy. They didn't even provide me with good sport when I came for their heads." The young claymore man said to himself, allowing the scenery around him to help his senses focus, "That will not be the same case with Teresa. For her own reasons, obviously, she will not simply let me… take her head. No, I will need to do what I did with her several years ago when we parted ways. And that would be to challenge her to a duel."

With a slight whir of wind, Ivan the Terrible easily waved Garm in a series of what would have been difficult slashes, stabs along with parries for any ordinary human warrior. Perhaps for any claymore too. When finished waving his weapon around through the air with utmost grace, the claymore man looked to his sword while he muttered, "For the first time in a very long time… I will have to use only one sword in battle. Teresa will be fast. And I will have to be fast too. Faster, actually."

With another flourish of steel through the air, this time with the whirring sounding more wicked than the last, Ivan slashed, parried, thrusted, retreated backwards, leaped forwards, sidestepped, ducked along with spun on his feet. All the while, he tried to imagine his opponent before him. He tried to imagine Teresa's strength, her agility, her beauty.

Wait, hold on… her beauty?

"Ah, I have died it would seem. Died to the fairest one of them all." Ivan jokingly admitted to himself with his blade held at his side, instantly having become distracted by the fact that he'd imagined how beautiful his opponent would be and distractions were not tolerated at all during combat, "Alas, I couldn't ask for a better way to die than with the blade of an old friend through me. Teresa always was a pretty one during training back in the day… With the years having come and gone, I can't help but wonder how she looks now."

Truly, although they'd rigorously trained together during their years as recruits in the organization, Ivan had to admit that he'd always been somewhat distracted by the beauty of Teresa. She very well had been his rival then and still was today. Yet, no one could have asked for a more gorgeous adversary to best at most everything. And if she was pretty to him when they had been younger, how pretty – by the gods – was she of the Faint Smile now?

"Enough of such thoughts." Ivan growled to himself, swinging Garm back up into his hands to go on practicing his swordplay, "I cannot allow myself to be distracted so… Not when my life is going to depend on the outcome. Surely, Teresa will be as gorgeous as a rose. Yet, as a rose, she will have thorns. She will be my enemy and I will be hers."

There was a pause of silence where Ivan seemed to think about something to himself. Then, with a grimace, he whispered, "And how I hate that… How I so very much hate that she's my enemy now. That she must be hunted down… like some kind of dog."

Again, Ivan the Terrible launched himself into training. With much leaping, dodging, rolling, slashing, stabbing, all done at speeds even claymores would respect, he toned his sword arm for what he expected would come during his fated fight with she of the Faint Smile. Finally, with a sudden surge in his yoki that made his eyes shine golden and his body quicken in agility even more for only a heartbeat, the claymore man slashed towards some nearby trees.

And although he was feet away from the said trees, although his sword hadn't at all touched their trunks, the trees that he'd swiped towards slowly yet surely collapsed to the earth with much crunching, groaning along with smashing into the leaf strewn ground last. For their trunks had been cleanly cut through by some invisible yet apparent force, making them keel over in turn.

"Impressive." A cool voice suddenly cut across the silence, spoken from behind Ivan the Terrible who didn't jump or show any surprise, "Those trees didn't stand a chance. Just like what I heard became of the yoma you faced back in Tereme."

"Rubel." Ivan said without having to look behind him to see the man in black seated on a rock nearby, a smiling man with a thin figure, narrow face, dressed in black with a hat covering his head and glasses hiding his eyes away, "Did you get the money from Murdock then?"

"Indeed I did. You made quite the profit there." Rubel admitted, holding up a rather large leather bag that was impressively filled to the brim with the grateful currency of the saved people of Tereme, "You also spent quite the time there, Ivan. Tell me, did you enjoy being human with the villagers for the last four days when you should have been aiding numbers two through five in subduing number one?"

"I did actually enjoy being what you say was human. You have my thanks for giving me a breather." The claymore man simply replied to his messenger, spinning Garm in his hands before impaling it into the grassy ground at his feet and turning to face his fellow, "And as you can see by the money in that bag of yours, sometimes being human rather than claymore has its benefits. Either way, now that I've done my human task… I'm prepared to do what needs doing as a claymore."

"You mean you're now prepared to do what you should have had as priority one on your list for the last week since Quicksword Ilena came to you in Lyrall? Not priority two?" Rubel said, looking grim, "You mean you are now ready to do what you sent Priscilla to do when you should have gone north with her and the rest of the top claymores?"

"Judging by the way you're saying that, I'm guessing that Teresa is still giving you all trouble." Ivan said, trying his best not to smile or feel proud that he'd guessed right that he was still the only one able to subdue Teresa, "And as for my priority one being to save Tereme last week, I have no regrets. After I subdue Teresa of the Faint Smile, I will face the punishments of the organization as any other claymore would."

"Due to recent events, any punishments you were bound to receive for disobeying the organization last week have actually been canceled. Be glad. Instead, I come to tell you of another trouble that is… worse than the rebel Teresa." Rubel explained, suddenly having another bag other than the money one in his hands which he tossed to Ivan who easily caught it, "Take a look inside of there. Once you've had your fill, I will explain to you what your next mission is to be."

"What my next mission is to be?" Ivan wondered aloud, looking questioningly to his agent, "You say that like… Does the organization not plan to send me after Teresa of the Faint Smile then?"

"Would that upset you if so? Why? You decided not to pursue her seven days ago. Instead, you ventured off on your own to answer the calls of humans. Or did you perhaps answer the human call rather than the organization's… because you could not bear to face your old time rival in the end?" Rubel mused, watching Ivan's inquisitive face for signs of emotion to his words, "Either way, no, you will not be sent after Teresa of the Faint Smile. You will understand why when you look in that bag."

What was in this bag Rubel had thrown to Ivan the Terrible? The young claymore man hadn't ever understood the ways or thoughts of the black messengers of the organization nor would he. What he did know was that they were never optimistic about much and what Rubel was smiling about something to do inside of this bag… So the contents couldn't be good.

Regardless though, whether he liked what was inside of the pouch or not wasn't up to Ivan. In his position at the moment, he had to open it or risk angering the organization further which wasn't a wise thing to do; not even for him, the other number one of the claymores.

Finally, Ivan the Terrible opened the bag. He slowly looked inside, not knowing what to expect. On his rocky seat, Rubel smiled a bigger smile to himself it seemed. Then, ever so slowly, putting one of his hands into the sack, the young claymore man pulled out a most unbelievable object; a head cleanly cut from its body… the silver, blonde haired, angelically radiant head of Teresa of the Faint Smile.

"Teresa of the Faint Smile is dead." Rubel said without needing to, adjusting his glasses on his face while Ivan stared blankly at the head of his longtime rival, "Number one was taken down by Priscilla last week. In fact, numbers three, four and five are deceased too thanks to her as well."

"I… What?" Ivan asked of Rubel, feeling his already aching heart about Teresa's demise ache more at hearing numbers three through five were dead due to Priscilla, "Teresa was killed by Priscilla you say? Ilena, Sophia and Noel… were killed by her too? What does that mean? Has she now rebelled? Is she now the one the organization wants me to hunt down?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes." Rubel admitted, nodding his head, "The organization wants you, Ivan the Terrible, the other Number One of the Claymores, to subdue Priscilla who has turned into an Awakened Being."

"An Awakened…? Ah, that foolish brat of a child! How could she do this?!" Ivan suddenly snarled, his eyes glinting with rage, "She promised me she would control herself, she trained with me for the last three months to control her emotions and thoughts since her certification! And now you mean to tell me that she awoke and killed numbers one, three, four and five because of her ignorance?!"

"That is indeed correct." Rubel said, "In other words, Ivan, you not only disobeyed the organization a week ago but doomed numbers one through five by allowing Priscilla to leave your side. Her latent abilities were awakened when she faced Teresa. From there, she was unbeatable. In fact, Priscilla is as good as gone. What she is today… cannot be explained."

"What a load of bullshit!" Ivan yelled, consumed with sudden rage and throwing Garm point first into the trunk of a nearby tree which uprooted the plant easily with an explosion of wood, "Even if she was awakened… Priscilla couldn't have beaten Teresa… No one could have beaten she of the Faint Smile without a stroke of pure bloody luck on their side! I admit that I trained Priscilla and that she was capable as a claymore but Teresa had no equal! She was as powerful as me and I know that because… because we decided so when we parted ways some years ago!"

"And speaking of your own limits, would you turn away from hunting down Priscilla and subduing her before she becomes any more powerful than she already is?" Rubel asked very seriously, "Perhaps you're right that Teresa was killed by pure luck but as you can see for yourself… she is still dead as are Ilena, Sophia and Noel. Now, the only means the organization has to keeping Priscilla in check is you, Ivan the Terrible. You are the only one that can keep us stable."

There was a heated silence between the young claymore man and his messenger in black. Finally, Ivan retrieved Garm from the tree he'd thrown it into. Next, he looked at Teresa's head held his other hand. Immediately, he took notice of how beautiful she was or had been before the fate that had befallen her because he had made some kind of mistake last week.

Gods, he would have loved to see her again during any other moment than now. He had been looking forward to their duel during the past seven days… He had been looking forward to not taking her head but perhaps letting her take his. She'd always been the better fighter. She'd always had a better reason than him at doing what she did.

Hmf, maybe Teresa would have even invited Ivan to join her in rebelling against their order. That would have been the sensible, cunning thing to do for they would've been unstoppable together. Just like the days of old.

Yet, Teresa of the Faint Smile, Ivan's rival since training, one of his oldest friends, was now deceased. How had been due to Priscilla awakening somehow in some way. Either way, now Ivan the Terrible was the sole number one of the claymores and the only way of avenging numbers one, three, four as well as five. And truly, he was keen on avenging them. Sure, Priscilla had been his pupil for the last few months. Now, however, she wasn't Priscilla anymore… she was awakened.

There was a "thunk" sound beside Ivan which drew him out of his thoughts. Rubel had tossed a certain claymore in the thinking claymore man's direction and the blade had landed point down into the ground. At once, Ivan recognized the quivering sword he had been thrown. It was or, better put, had been Teresa's.

"What do I need a traitor's sword for?" Ivan growled aloud, looking at Teresa's weapon before him.

"There is more to the story than I've told you, Ivan the Terrible. If you wish to truly know how Teresa of the Faint Smile died along with the others, then take that claymore before you and continue your journey to Lyrall." Rubel explained, adjusting his glasses once again, "There in that city, you will be recognized by someone due to Teresa's sword. That someone will be your means of finding out the reason of Teresa's rebellion and her death. That someone will also be your newest pupil."

"You mean to say this someone who will recognize me for carrying Teresa's sword in Lyrall…" Ivan said, studying Teresa's blade intently, "Wishes to be a claymore someday?"

"Precisely. She will be your new student. You will teach her the ways of the claymore." Rubel described, nodding his head, "That is by the orders of the organization. Remember that, won't you?"

"Sure." Ivan grimly replied, throwing Garm to Rubel who actually caught it rather professionally, "I'll take Teresa's weapon with me to Lyrall. In the meantime, I trust you'll take good care of Garm for me?"

"Most certainly." The messenger in black reassured the claymore man who pulled Teresa' blade from the ground, spun it over his head, parried, thrusted, then sheathed the weapon on his back, "It will take the organization some time to track down Priscilla and have you face her, Ivan. During our tracking her down, you would do well to go to Lyrall and begin training your newest pupil for her days as a claymore."

"As you say." Ivan agreed, getting Gungnir from its resting spot, sheathing it, putting Teresa's head back in the bag and throwing it to Rubel, then marching off into the woodlands, "I'm off. Goodbye, Rubel. Always a… pleasure to see you."

"Goodbye, Ivan the Terrible."

It was about ten minutes since Ivan had vanished into the forest lands that Rubel – still sitting by himself on the rocks near the waterfall spring – was suddenly hailed by another man in black, a stranger donned in a heavy cloak with a wooden mask covering his already hooded face. The masked man in black stood before the man with glasses, shaking his head after, in his hiding place, having heard all that Rubel and Ivan had recently discussed.

"Enash." Rubel greeted the masked man in black, smiling a bit more, "Whatever is the matter? You look a bit uneasy about something."

"Why shouldn't I be?" The masked man in black, Enash, said coolly to his messenger fellow, "These are becoming troublesome days for the organization. Not only do we have our strongest claymores dead but one has awakened into a true monster. Now, our only suitable claymore for the job is a man prone to following his own human judgment rather hold to the code of the organization?"

"It's true. Ivan the Terrible is more human than claymore. He's always allowed his humanity to get in the way of his orders." Rubel admitted, nodding his head, "However, despite his trouble, he's been a valuable asset to our order's purpose. Unfortunately, his time as well as use has come to an end. One way or the other, he will not survive his mission against Priscilla."

"Is that so?" Enash questioned curiously, "Ah you mean Ivan's newest pupil, the girl he'll find in Lyrall… will have something to do with his end?"

"Indeed." Rubel said, smiling a bit wider now, "It is as the organization described it at the news of Teresa's death; as she was the reason for Teresa of the Faint Smile's death, Clare will be the death of Ivan the Terrible. As she brought out the humanity in Teresa, Clare will do the same to Ivan… and as we all know, humans don't survive in the yoma world. No, they come to die at some point."

"I can't help but wonder… what if Ivan the Terrible does defeat Priscilla? What if the organization has guessed wrong about him?" Enash wondered grimly, "I mean, Teresa of the Faint Smile truly was unrivaled. Priscilla was strong but her victory over number one was by luck as Ivan guessed. So, seeing as he's as strong as Teresa, if Ivan the Terrible lives then he'll be the most powerful being we know of."

"The organization hasn't guessed wrong. Ivan the Terrible will not live through his mission against Priscilla and neither will little Clare, the bane of the Faint Smile, hopefully." Rubel stated, looking stern, "And if by some miracle Ivan does live… he will be human by the journey's end and will want nothing to do with the organization. He will take Clare, who will then be his only purpose in living, somewhere far away and live the rest of his days in silence. Just like Teresa wanted to do before her end."

"That is if Ivan doesn't outright throttle the child when she tells him how Teresa died, when she tells him Teresa died fighting for her." Enash actually chuckled evilly, "Honestly, did you see how enraged Ivan the Terrible became at seeing Teresa of the Faint Smile was dead? No matter how he tries to hide it now, we know for certain that she meant a great deal to him."

"Well, yes. The two of them, Ivan the Terrible and Teresa of the Faint Smile, were rivals their entire lives. They trained together when still trainees of the order… They made a virtually invincible pair when full-fledged claymores. That was why the organization had them separated some years back. They were too strong together." Rubel said, getting to his feet, "And if Ivan does let his rage kill Clare when meeting her in Lyrall, the organization wouldn't think twice about it. We no longer have the means of bringing him, the newest number one, to justice. We simply have to hope he stays obedient long enough to keep us afloat… And when he does realize we have no strength to keep him leashed, it cannot be said whether or not he will rebel like Teresa."

"More than likely…" Enash said grimly, "He will rebel when the moment is right. We're holding a yoma by the tail here. We could be destroyed or spared within a heartbeat."

"No, we cannot be destroyed." Rubel said, adjusting his glasses one last time, "We have our ways of surviving. We could even live through Ivan the Terrible's rage if need be. Still, he has not rebelled yet and won't for some time. Not until he grows wiser with the girl at his side, anyway. Come, Enash. We have other important business to attend to today."

And with that said, both men in black were suddenly gone from the scene. Only the sound of the cascading water of the waterfall was what disturbed the quiet tranquility of the forested spring once more.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Reviews, Follows, Favs help a writer keep going. Seriously, I'm having fun writing this tale but it would be ten times more fun to have folks tell me or give me a sign of what they think. If you've read up to this point, I very much appreciate your having taken the time to enjoy the adventure I'm sending Ivan the Terrible on. Also, if I'm missing anything vital on details or lore about Claymore during Clare's earlier days then fill me in via private message, not public review. Thanks very much.<strong>


	5. Regrets

**C****hapter Five: "Regrets"**

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><p>For disturbed Ivan the Terrible, his thoughts terribly conflicted over the news he'd been given by Rubel earlier, the end of the first day of traveling towards Lyrall was coming to a close. The open fields, valleys along with prairies of the realm of southern Tereme as well as Murdock had been left behind during the course of the said day and now the surroundings were rougher, forested along with sheltered from the cooling weather in general. As for the cool weather in question, the daytime had proven to be absolutely favorable. Not a single storm cloud or nasty occurrence had troubled the already hurting claymore man as he'd walked north with his mind constantly… reeling over what Priscilla was possibly doing elsewhere as he marched onward.<p>

Yet, no, she was no longer Priscilla. She was no longer the foolish child he'd been training since her rushed certification to become a claymore. Here and now, she was an awakened being, a fugitive of the organization, a monster who would kill anyone if not everyone that stood in her way without a second's hesitation.

And although it was hard for him to think about, even though his imagination made his gut twist in disgust… Somewhere, out there in the world while he'd traveled northward to reach Lyrall, Ivan knew for a fact that the awakened monster that was the remnant of Priscilla had found some center of civilization, slain innocent folk and dined on their lives. For that was always the first desire of someone, any claymore, who awakened; to find a source of flesh to devour that would ease their newfound vile hunger.

On a side note, seeing as how powerful Priscilla had been as a rookie silver eyed slayer during the latest months, seeing as she'd somehow defeated Teresa of the Faint Smile, it was obvious that she would be unstoppable during her raids on humans. And Priscilla being unstoppable during her feasting on humans who hadn't done anything wrong, knowing full well that he could've kept her from killing numbers one through five last week if only he hadn't gone to Tereme like his heart had told him to… that was the terrible subject that made Ivan keep walking late into the nighttime.

Indeed, even with the moon high in the heavens surrounded by stars, he continued to walk and walk and walk some more until he could not do so anymore. Unless, of course, he wanted his feet along with his mind to break from fatigue. Be it fighting, traveling, eating and so on, all claymores had their limitations. Even the highest ranked ones.

In the end, with the fresh night air cooling his heated body temperature and giving his muscles a moment to rest themselves from the day long journey he'd made from Murdock to here, stepping off of the road into the shadowy environment of the forest to his right where he felt safe in the shadows, Ivan established himself a proper campsite on the forest floor. With a flash of steel from Gungnir against a nearby rock that sent up a spray of sparks onto an assortment of dried plants he'd collected from nearby, the male claymore – sitting quietly against his blades stabbed into the ground like they were simply a chair – soon enough had a small fire going.

Yet, even with his flesh warmed by the dancing flames of his smalltime camp fire, Ivan's heart was one of ice. Why was because it was evident that his human side, not his claymore personage, had gotten the better of him all last week. In turn, many had already suffered and others would suffer in the future due to his mistakes. Thus, with that truth haunting his conscious, sleep wasn't easily gained for him that night. For what felt like the longest hours in his lifetime since he'd been recruited into the seedy organization and trained to be the yoma slayer he was tonight, Ivan the Terrible did nothing but stare into the fire before him with his silvery eyes… pondering over events that had transpired seven days ago which he'd been foolish to not consider dangerous then.

"No longer will you two be going south. You are to immediately come north with me to the village of Garen, Ivan. You as well as Priscilla." Quicksword Ilena had said to him and Priscilla in Lyrall last week, her voice had been the same no nonsense yet encouraging tone as always, "We will meet up with Noel and Sophia there. Orders from the top."

"Orders from the organization you say, eh? We're to meet up with number four and five, Muscular Sophia and Wind Storm Noel, in Garen? My, my, we're gathering together quite the fighting force to go further north with." Ivan had replied with Priscilla listening in, the both of them having felt curious about the subject being discussed, "What's happening, Ilena? I have orders from the organization to bring Priscilla south for further training and you just show up out of the blue and tell us we're going north instead? Why?"

"It's because of the current number one among us claymores." Ilena had stated simply, although her eyes had looked hard then, "Teresa of the Faint Smile… she has rebelled against the law and order of the organization. For her own reasons, she has been accused of killing a number of humans."

As he gazed into the flames of his campfire silently with the stars shining above him, Ivan remembered that there had been a very long if not astonished silence at the sudden news of Teresa's rebellion. From him, anyhow. Priscilla on the other hand, due to her nasty history with yoma and those who harmed humans, had instantly been very indignant about the matter.

"Teresa of the Faint Smile has killed humans?!" Priscilla had exclaimed, dumfounded, "She's refused to give in to the organization's laws and be executed?!"

"That is indeed the case." Ilena had confirmed, "That is why you two are to come with me and meet up with numbers four and five, Sophia and Noel. Together, we will have to bring Teresa to justice before anything else goes wrong in the public eye."

"How… How could she do this to us?" Priscilla had wondered angrily, looking pale, "She's number one… and she killed humans? Why? Claymores are meant to kill yoma. They were made to ensure the peace, not break it. How dare Teresa not allow herself to be killed-"

"Priscilla!" Ivan had stated firmly, feeling angered by his rookie's dramatics towards the situation, "Be silent. You do not even know Teresa. Do not begin to throw around opinions so quickly."

"But you heard Ilena! Number one has killed humans and refused to be brought to justice for it! She's no better than the yoma we're supposed to hunt!"

"Ilena… I know that you know Teresa. So do I. Thus, if she has truly rebelled, if she has really killed humans and refused to abide by the laws of the organization…" Ivan the Terrible had wondered sternly to Quicksword Ilena, "Did she not have good reason for her actions? Does she not rebel because of some higher purpose? Are we certain she was not acting in the name of a better good when she took the lives of humans?"

Again, at Ivan's questioning, there had been a silence between the claymores. Finally, Priscilla had interjected in bemusement, "Ivan, are you suggesting that number one is innocent even though she killed humans? Claymore law is claymore law, no matter what. If she killed humans then she must die herself. That is what has helped the claymores win the trust of the humans for centuries!"

"Yes, Priscilla speaks true. No matter the circumstances, claymore law is claymore law.… whether or not there is more to the story of number one killing humans for whatever reason, I have not been informed by the organization." Ilena had explained, her facing having not shown emotion but her eyes had displayed regret, "One way or the other, orders are orders, Ivan. Teresa of the Faint Smile is to be engaged and subdued by numbers two through five who will be aided by yourself; the ghost."

"You all are to be aided by me, the ghost, eh? The man who doesn't' exist but is the silent death dealer of the organization, hm? Well, as exciting as it would be for me to meet Teresa for the first time after so many years… I'm afraid that I can't aid you on this mission." Ivan had said firmly then, not knowing he had begun to kill numbers two through five and awaken Priscilla at that exact moment.

"What?!" Priscilla had exclaimed in shock at his statement.

"You _can't_ assist numbers two through five in subduing number one…" Quicksword Ilena had asked, her hand having dangerously gripped the hilt of her blade, "Or you _won't_ assist us? Orders are orders, Ivan."

"And yoma are yoma, Ilena." Ivan had cunningly argued back, explaining his situation with detail, "To the south of here is a village known as Tereme. Apparently, described to me and Priscilla just yesterday by a half dead messenger from the village I just mentioned, Tereme is under siege from a pack of yoma."

"And you think that they are more a threat than letting Teresa wander free?"

"Knowing Teresa, Ilena, yes. Yes, I believe that Teresa is only a threat because the organization says so and is sending numbers two through five after her. I believe there is more to the story about her killing humans than we're getting from our superiors. Not only that… I cannot leave Tereme to be slowly yet surely destroyed by yoma. After that village, the yoma will move on to nearby Murdock next. And after Murdock, Lyrall here will be subject to attacks."

"Orders are orders, Ivan the Terrible… you have heard them from me."

"And I have heard them from you. Loud and clear. I have heard them as well as made up my mind. So, will you stop me from going my own way from here, Quicksword Ilena? Will you draw on me? Or will you see my reason to my argument, take Priscilla and head to Garen to meet with numbers four and five like the sensible claymore that you are while I go and save the innocent people of Tereme from a most gruesome fate and catch up with you to subdue Teresa afterwards?"

With her hand having been on her sword, with Priscilla having watched in tense silence, Ilena had finally stood down from combat. She had shaken her narrow head as well as voiced her opinion of the matter of course, "Very well. Priscilla will be coming with me to Garen while you handle the threat of Tereme, Ivan. Know this, I gave you the organization's orders… if you disobey them here and now and go your own way today, it will be your own fault. Understood?"

"Naturally. I understand." Ivan the Terrible had mused, knowing then that he'd been grateful for Quicksword Ilena allowing her human side to let him go his way but knowing now while gazing into the campfire that that had been a terrible mistake on both of their parts, "Priscilla, you've heard number three. You will be going with her to Garen."

"While you go to… Tereme?" Priscilla had mumbled, having looked hurt that she was being passed on to a new claymore rather than staying at the side of he who whom she'd come to respect for the last few months since her certification, "Ivan… Are you sure… I don't know…"

"Priscilla. Promising Priscilla." Ivan had brotherly said to his rookie student, to she whom had trained with him for some months then and he had come to revere in turn, "I know Teresa well enough. She was my equal when we were younger. She is still my rival today. Thus, I know that you, number two, my pupil, will do fine without me. Remember, you have trained well with my teachings. You have learned to hide away your yoma power like myself, to let your enemies think you weak… just before you show them otherwise and turn the tide of battle against them. Give your enemies everything you've got within the blink of an eye. See where they're going to strike and strike out first."

"Yes, Ivan… I remember everything you have taught me. I remember."

"I know you do. Most of all, though, Priscilla, don't let your emotions go wild. Control your feelings like you've been doing at my side. Do not allow anger to warp your goal in battle. Hatred will only breed hatred until it destroys everything; especially you." Ivan had lectured while having confidently held Priscilla by the shoulder, "Yoma lash out like beasts. You and I are not beasts. We are claymores. We do not let anger define us but skill, focus as well as patience. Remember that always, Priscilla."

"Yes. I will."

And with that having been said, with their own goals in mind, Quicksword Ilena, Promising Priscilla and Ivan the Terrible had parted ways in Lyrall… not having known then just how terrible things were bound to turn out today seven days later. Now, Quicksword Ilena was dead along with Teresa of the Faint Smile, Muscular Sophia and Wind Storm Noel. Promising Priscilla was Awakened Priscilla. And Ivan the Terrible, with his mind a swirling mass of regret, sat in the northern forests by his campfire in the darkness of the nighttime.

"We are claymores. We are not ruled by hatred. We are focused, skilled, patient." Ivan mumbled to himself without much admiration, his silver eyes twinkling in the firelight like the stars in the inky black heavens above, "Hatred. From here on out, Priscilla, no matter what we think we know, that is what is going to rule our lives until we are done living. So, wait for me, won't you? I'm coming… And when we meet, I will end your hatred as well as mine. I will set us both free with a swing of Teresa."

After having said his piece, after having said the name Teresa, Ivan purposefully leaned back more upon a certain blade behind him; the blade that had belonged to and he had just entitled after his longtime rival, the deceased Teresa of the Faint Smile. Yes, from now on during his hunt for Awakened Priscilla, Ivan the Terrible would have the swords Gungnir and Teresa at his sides.

And as his eyes began to close with sleep, as his mind thought over things of the past, the claymore man's consciousness remembered one last thing before sleep took him. He remembered the certain day some years ago when he as well as Teresa had received the news that they would no longer be partners in slaying yoma. Instead, they were to go their own ways.

Yet, before they had gone off on their own, having been rivals since being recruited by the organization, Ivan the Terrible and Teresa of the Faint Smile had decided upon one last thing to do to decide who was the true number one amongst the claymores; they decided to have a duel. Teresa had won the fight that day. Still, she'd seen right through Ivan's acting.

"You didn't give it your all. You used both of your swords, not just one. You knew you couldn't win by using both of your blades, you fool."

Alas, Ivan had happily let Teresa – although moody over her victory – walk away as the better fighter on that day long ago. At that time, victory hadn't really mattered that much to him. Last week, to make up for that day in the past where he had indeed held back to make her feel better, he had intended to fight she of the Faint Smile again with all of his skill, might along with yoma power. Instead of his two claymores, he would have used one and the fight against his adversary would have been epic. Neither of them would have held anything back.

Nevertheless, there was no chance of Ivan having a rematch with Teresa ever again. Not with her dead. Now, even if he was the ghost of the organization, as if he was the only male claymore of the era, he knew he had a new rival to deal with; Awakened Priscilla. And she was all that he dreamed about as he attempted to restlessly sleep through the night.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: "Reviews, favs and follows help a writer keep going. Please and thanks."<strong>


	6. Lyrall

**C****hapter Six: "Lyrall"**

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><p>After what had felt like an eternity to Ivan the Terrible who had been trying not to think about the terrors Awakened Priscilla was bringing about elsewhere in the world, the hours of night finally came to a close. At long last, with the moon descending into the western horizon, with the stars having faded away from the brightening sky some hours ago, dawn of the newest day had arrived with a brilliant, bronze colored illumination. In turn, all around Ivan who was busy preparing himself for the day's journey ahead of him which would certainly get him to Lyrall today, the forest was alive with the sounds of morning, the air felt refreshing to breathe in and life would have been good for any person.<p>

Any person other than Ivan, anyway, who had a most crucial mission to complete.

For the last seven days, the claymore man had been falling behind on his duties as a claymore. Now, having thought through many depressing things during his gazing into his campfire last night – his decision to go to Tereme rather than Garen last week, to leave emotional Priscilla in Ilena's care, to not face Teresa himself along with more – it was time for him to remember his warrior side. It was time for him to put aside all of his shame, his regrets as well as his emotions and uphold his title as the number one male silver eyed slayer alive.

It was time for him to listen to his instincts as a claymore. Not a human.

Last week, he had behaved as a human. For doing so, he was now paying quite the price. No, not only him but many people were paying a heavy price for his foolishness. Thus, as he should have been when told by Ilena he was to go with her to Garen last week, he was going to be a claymore from now on. Nothing mattered more than avenging numbers one through five. Nothing mattered more to him… than putting Priscilla to rest.

For every claymore alive throughout the forty-seven regions of the continent, setting up camp as well as taking it down was a familiar practice. Being travelers, warriors along with half yoma, the silver eyed slayers were never used to staying in one place for more than three days. Instead, always informed by their black dressed messengers of missions, they were familiar with walking the roads, venturing through the wilderness, just staying on the move in general.

Thus, having already done so too many times to count in his lifetime, with the morning sun rising just over the western horizon, Ivan had snuffed out his flickering campfire, scattered the cold ashes to the wind, put his armor back onto his body, donned his traveling cloak, placed Gungnir and Teresa in the sheathes on his back and then had taken a moment of silence before breaking camp.

With the coming of the new day, the forest around Ivan the Terrible – formerly quieter than a graveyard – was becoming jovial. Indeed, birds, bugs along with animals were sounding out to each other every which way he sternly looked. A relaxing wind blew over the forest roof, making the tree tops seem to dance together, swishing their leafy tops this way and that way with much rustling from their many green leafed limbs.

While experiencing the forest environment all around him, the actual sound of a gurgling brook caught Ivan's attention most. Knowing it was wise of him to do considering his urgent march yesterday late into the nighttime, the claymore man perked up his ears so that he could possibly locate the source of running water. He focused his senses onto knowing which direction to walk. Soon enough, tracking the sound of trickling water, he headed east. Five minutes passed as he trudged over the grassy woodland floor dotted with several dead leaves. After those five minutes, as he'd predicted when heading in the eastern direction, he found a small stream weaving its way along without a care.

Pulling out and opening his personal canteen from under his traveling cloak, Ivan – as he'd predicted from the start of his searching for the stream – found his water ration was down to a third of its overall quantity since he'd departed Rubel at the waterfall pond yesterday midday. Thus, with gratitude to the gods and goddesses of the world, the claymore man silently refilled his canteen to its brim. As he did so, he took notice of how very smooth all of the rocks at the stream's bottom looked to be. Truly, the pebbles below the rippling surface of the flowing water were softened, circular. They looked so interesting to him that he couldn't resist from reaching down and pulling out a handful of them to study.

The stones Ivan examined were slightly larger than his own thumbs. They looked like they belonged in a shrine or temple of some kind with etching upon their surfaces. Wait, etching upon their surfaces… how very convenient. What a brilliant idea the claymore man gained from the mention of etching.

Drawing out a hidden dagger from his armor, counting out the pebbles to make sure he had five in total, Ivan the Terrible acted on an idea related to the small, smooth, stream bed stones he held in his hand. Knowing there was no time for him to wait around with Priscilla on the loose though, knowing he had to go to Lyrall as soon as possible to find his newest claymore pupil for training, the claymore man acted on his idea while on the move of course.

And in no time at all, Ivan was back on the road marching north towards Lyrall again. In the meantime, with intent gusto, he began carefully scratching certain emblems onto the stones he'd taken from the stream.

As every claymore knew it, in the north, south, east and west, there were forty-seven regions throughout the world in total. Each of those said regions had a silver eyed slayer assigned to it depending on their strengths. Yes, since the beginning of their creations many ages ago, there had been and were nowadays a total of forty-seven certified silver eyed slayers acting in service of the yoma killing organization across the realms. Due to recent unfortunate events, Ivan the Terrible was number one of the current generation.

As for the others who had pretty much been Ivan's equals before their untimely deaths, he was busy carving their sword symbols – emblems he'd come to be very familiar with after having worked alongside their owners for many years in the past – onto the pebbles in his hands while he traveled northwards.

"Teresa of the Faint Smile. My dearest rival, friend, companion." Ivan got around to saying to himself, having finished etching the former number one's emblem onto a stone, "Hmf, you always were the one running from the organization rather than learning to be a claymore. I thought you got over that when you and I met and decided to be rivals… it seems I was wrong. Do not worry though. I have your sword in hand. I have your face in my mind. In your memory, I will bring all of this despair to an end. Priscilla will be brought to justice in due time."

"Quicksword Ilena. Unrivaled master of the berserk sword." He quoted next around an hour later, having completed the former number two's symbol on another pebble, "Whenever myself and Teresa were in your company, you were always the one who stayed focused on the subject at hand, Ilena. I should have followed your example when you came to get me in Lyrall last week. I know it does little good for you now that you're dead but… I truly am sorry for having given you the reason for your demise. I am sorry I handed Priscilla into your care when I knew I was the only one strong enough to keep her in line."

"Muscular Sophia. She with the strength of ten yoma. No, twenty yoma." He chuckled inwardly, having gotten done carving former number three's/four's symbol, "It's funny. You were always more prone to be the quiet, strong type of warrior. Your opponents never knew when to keep their distance from you. For all you had to do whenever they came within range… was swing your sword without a care and watch them fall to pieces in turn. Most marvelous."

"Wind Storm Noel. The living hurricane." He said admiringly, having drawn former number four's/five's emblem onto the fourth pebble in his hand with the noon sun high in the sky above him, "Ah, I remember the verbal banters you would have with most anyone who would challenge you in the smallest of ways. You always had to be the best at everything. Perhaps that is why you never liked me. I never jumped onto the chance of arguing with you over anything like Sophia ever did. I knew your strength and you knew mine. Without having to say it, I was always the stronger. That was why you never did challenge me to a duel like you did with many others… Still, it must have been a thrill for you to at least have had the chance to go into combat against Teresa, my equal. If anything, she of the Faint Smile must have shown you just how powerful I would have been in combat."

"Priscilla… Promising Priscilla." Ivan said grimly, having gotten his rookie's insignia scratched out onto the last stream pebble in his possession with the afternoon sun blazing bright, "I owe you the biggest apology of them all. You were not ready to go off on your own as a claymore. You were not supposed to see real live combat until much later into your training. The organization rushed you… I abandoned you… and you failed to keep a grip on your senses in turn. Against Teresa, it would seem that you allowed your focus to be ruined. You allowed anger to rule your senses rather than patience. Now, you are not a claymore. You are a beast. The beast I must, no matter how, put an end to."

With the sun drooping westward into the afternoon sky, having passed some farmland earlier during his stone etching where farmers had been farming, Ivan the Terrible knew he was closing in on Lyrall. It wouldn't be long now. By dusk, he would be inside the town and he would find his newest claymore student there.

For now though, having placed the emblem pebbles of the former numbers one through five in his traveling pouch on his waist, the claymore man took a reflective moment to remember his fallen comrades. He took a moment to apologize for his actions that had gotten them all killed seven days ago.

"It was my fault that you all died. I know and accept that. It was my fault that I went to Tereme and let Priscilla leave my side when she was not ready to be on her own." The claymore man said to himself, bowing his head, folding his hands and thinking of the faces of the deceased warriors numbered one through five, "Teresa of the Faint Smile, Quicksword Ilena, Muscular Sophia, Wind Storm Noel, Promising Priscilla… I pray for your forgiveness and ask for your patience. I still am alive. Thus, I am in charge and will make things right. For your memories, I will honor your deaths, hunt down the awakened one who took your lives and put an end to all of this unfortunate business. Then, by the gods' favors, may we all find peace in turn."

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><p>It was getting late into the afternoon when resolute Ivan the finally sighted the hunter town of Lyrall in the distance to the north. After another hour of walking through the surrounding farmland that surrounded the walled in, hunting community built alongside the flowing Seidon River, having taken several specific medicationspills beforehand to change his eye color from silver to sapphire to appear more humane so as to not scare folks away, the undercover claymore man finally passed through the front gates without much fuss.

Truly, even with the two giant swords hanging from his back, with his silver armor visible underneath his traveling cloak, Ivan looked no different than any other resident of Lyrall. Being hunters, lumberjacks, fishermen, every other person in the town was bearing some kind of weaponry, tools, gear and more such complicated items meant for jobs in the outside world.

Thus, as he had explained to the questioning yet rather relaxed guards at the front gate that he was in the area seeking career opportunities to become a soldier himself, Ivan hadn't been held up for very long over his appearance. Which to him had been expected, seeing as he'd been here only seven days ago and now very well knew the rather lenient ways of the place; especially about their lack in confiscating weapons.

Where he'd explained to the guards at the front gate that he was looking for possible work, Ivan's actual purpose in Lyrall was in locating a certain individual, of course. As he remembered Rubel telling him yesterday at the waterfall pond, he would find his newest claymore student through bearing Teresa's sword.

And what a curious way that was for Ivan to find his newest pupil; through Teresa's sword? Apparently the new claymore he was bound to train… had something to do with she of the Faint Smile in the past?

On a side note, when he'd thrown the former number one's sword to Ivan back at the pond, hadn't Rubel said something like there was more to the story of Teresa's death? And if he wanted to find out more of that certain story then he needed to carry Teresa's sword to Lyrall as well as find his newest apprentice there? Or, put better, his newest apprentice would find him here by recognizing she of the Faint Smile's sword on his back?

There were so many questions to think through. Ivan the Terrible hadn't run into so many in his lifetime in a long time. Regardless, though, he knew for certain that he was here in Lyrall to find out his newest apprentice. And the best way for him to do that was by walking to every corner, covering every square inch, exploring every street of the town around him. Yet, first off, having walked for a while today already and knowing that himself along with his student would need a base for the rest of the day to go over plans together, the claymore man immediately took to finding the local inn known as "The Winking Pike".

There wasn't much to the name of the inn, of course. The Winking Pike, eh? How original. More than likely it was named after the vicious pike fish that made regular if not stubborn sport for the fishermen at the Seidon River all day, every day. Judging by what people had to say about them, the pike species didn't even taste at all good. However, they did grow large in size and provided a good fight for the most determined fishers when they wanted a challenge.

Either way, Winking Pike or no Winking Pike, that'd been the place Ivan had stayed at seven days ago with Priscilla… although he didn't like to think of that time last week when he walked through the inn's front door today.

Just like last week when Ivan had visited the Winking Pike, the place was still full of conversing persons while maids were going around taking orders mostly of fried, smoked, baked fish of all kinds. There was a thin layer of smoke hanging near the ceiling, thanks to the cooking style of the kitchens in back. At the front desk, busily writing down things on paper, was the same middle aged, heavily black haired man who was in charge of everything. It took him several moments to notice tall, cloaked Ivan standing before him. When he did notice the disguise claymore man, the manager of the Winking Pike sniffed at Ivan the Terrible and didn't seem to recognize that he'd been in his inn only last week.

Not recognizing people as well as guests in Lyrall wasn't a surprise, mind. Considering the lifestyle of the town, travelers, nomads and all sorts of people came as well as left every second of every minute of every hour of every day. Either way, Ivan finally received some attention from the innkeeper when he'd finished writing something else, put on his spectacles, then grudgingly asked aloud, "Can I help you, stranger?"

"Indeed, you can." Ivan the Terrible said, not paying attention to the annoyance of the manager's voice but keeping a smile on his handsome face, "I'd like a room for the night. No need to say how much. I've been here before. I know the toll."

"Hmf. So I see." The innkeeper mumbled when Ivan placed a pouch of currency in front of him and he'd counted out the total exactly, "So you want a room for the night, eh? If you don't mind me saying so, you don't have the looks of a commoner, lad. What's your catch in staying here rather than asking for lodgings at the barracks?"

"There's no catch. I simply noticed the name of this place and felt intrigued. The Winking Pike is quite the name. It must have some story to it, no?" The claymore man replied, putting all his cunning, charisma along with coolness into his praising.

"Well, yes, you could say that the name of my place has quite the story to it. You have quite the eye and mind to put all of that together just by passing by here." The innkeeper said with relish, puffing up with pride at Ivan's praises.

"Ah, so this is your place?"

"It most certainly is. The name's Theodore Rodgers. I came to gain this establishment from my daddy like he gained it from his daddy before him." The innkeeper, Theodore Rodgers, explained proudly with a twinkle in his gray eyes and a smile on his face, "It was actually my granddaddy who named this fine building. Of course that was during better days where people took pride in the smaller things… and not the biggest."

"I believe I would've liked your grandfather if I had lived during his time. A man like that who came up with such a name for this inn must have been quite artistic. He must have had good reason to name this place as such too, no?"

"Oh yes! The story behind this place is quite the marvelous tale – but, uh, you've come looking for a room. Not a story, right?"

"I'm in no huge hurry. Please, if you would be so kind, I would like to hear the story of your grandfather naming this inn."

Again, as Ivan had come to know it during his last visit to Lyrall, The Winking Pike was named after the pike of the Seidon River. However, seeing as he hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Theodore Rodgers personally last time, what the claymore man hadn't known back then was the actual tale behind the reason for the inn's name.

Apparently Theodore Rodgers grandfather, Hector, had finished building the inn many years ago. However, he couldn't think up a proper name for the place. Nothing seemed to fit in his book, not the Prancing Deer nor the Starved Bear nor the Cunning Vixen. Business for the unnamed inn had been good, mind. Yet, feeling his job was incomplete, Hector had been most anxious about giving his fine establishment a name. And it wasn't until one certain night where a drunk had fallen into the Seidon River that the Winking Pike was ever thought of by anyone. For as the drunken man had been pulled out of the raging waters by nearby citizens, he'd been nipped lightly in the behind by a rather confident pike itself. Then, by the drunk's honor… that same pike had winked at him cheekily before vanishing back into the dark depths of the water.

The very next day, the drunk had told his tale to everyone at Hector's inn. In turn, the inn was named after that cheeky Winking Pike whose memory was forever remembered to this day. By those who cared to remember or took the time to listen to the story, anyhow.

Mind, where most claymores wouldn't have cared at all about the story they'd just been told about a cheeky pike biting a drunk, Ivan the Terrible found himself most fascinated by it. He adored the idea of a confident fish having gotten the best of a drunken man at his most vulnerable. And for having listened to the original tale of the Winking Pike with utmost attention, the claymore man was given his room by grateful Theodore at half the charge. How very generous.

"Truly, I appreciate this. I've been on my feet for the last few days." Ivan said with appreciation, bowing his head to Theodore as the innkeeper opened the door to the quite tidy looking room that would be his for the rest of the night, "With all due respect, your grandfather was right in listening to that drunk and naming this inn after the pike. I loved the story. I love the name of this place even more than before."

"And I'm glad you loved the story. Still, I'm afraid that it's one that's going to fade away into history if I don't keep on going on about it. People these days don't have time to stand around and have a chat or remember the old days for two measly seconds." Theodore explained, allowing Ivan to step into his half priced rented room, "Either way, this will be your room for the night, friend. It's number five on the left here. I hope you enjoy yourself. Let me know if there's anything else you need-"

"Actually, I won't be staying here until later on tonight. See, before night comes, I'm going to be out in town looking for a certain someone."

"You are, are you? I thought you just said you've been on your feet for the last few – Bah, it's not my place to question. Still, is there any way I can help you?"

"Perhaps…" Ivan admitted, acting innocently curious about what he had to ask next, "Has there been anything out of the ordinary that's happened in this town since last week? Has there been anyone, a young lady if anything, whom has stood out for the last several days or not?"

"Hm… I… I can't say that I've heard nor seen anything like a young lady standing out, friend. And I would know anything like that firsthand, being the innkeeper where rumors travel faster than wildfire, you know." Theodore admitted, looking glum that he couldn't be more help, "You know, perhaps your best bet is to speak with the soldiers at the barracks in the east part of town. If not there, try the holy father at the shrine in the south parts."

"Thank you, Theodore. I will do that then." Ivan the Terrible said, smiling a grateful smile, "I still have a few hours before dusk. When nighttime arrives, I will be back."

"Oh but aren't you going to leave your belonging here in your room? Sir, they look so heavy. Just take a moment to leave your stuff behind and on my honor, I'll be sure that they remain safe and-""

In a few heartbeats, even with Theodore eager to take his things from him, the disguised claymore man was gone from sight, lost to the hustle and bustle outside in the town street. The innkeeper looked from his left to his right in wonder at seeing how quickly Ivan had vanished. Next, scratching his head, he closed the door behind him, turned to resume his duties as manager of the Winking Pike… then felt something snap into place in his mind.

Theodore's guest had been asking about anything suspicious that had happened during the last few days… he had been wondering if there had been a young lady or such standing out from the crowds in Lyrall… Augh! How had Theodore forgotten about her! How had he forgotten about the little girl in room three that had arrived to his inn, had her room and board paid for and had been waiting for someone to come get her since last week?!

"Blast it! Old age is catching up with me and my memory!" The innkeeper growled to himself, looking to enter room three and alert the little one inside of Ivan's arrival, "Here that young man asked me of anything odd and I've had this child sitting in this room doing nothing but waiting for someone for seven days. This can't be coincidence… he must be looking for her and she must be waiting for him."

Yet, as Theodore began to look to go inside room three… he paused in his actions.

What good would it do now to excite the little girl inside when the young man had already vanished from sight and wouldn't be back until nightfall? She didn't know of him yet. And by the gods, Theodore hadn't even gotten Ivan's name before he'd left. He wouldn't even have the mysterious young man's name to give to the child.

So, stepping back from room three, the innkeeper decided to stay quiet about the whole situation until Ivan's eventual return. For now, he had other matters to attend to; like the sudden brawl happening between a gang of lumberjacks and hunters at table four!

"HEY! All of you smelly, sweaty, grubby fellas quit the grabbing, punching and squabbling like the ninnies you are!" Theodore roared at the top of his lungs, motioning for his maids to stand back from the scuffle while he angrily and purposefully grabbed hold of a nearby broom handle, "Or so help me, by the gods, I'll give you a taste of my own skills with this here stick. Honestly, I swear this if you don't stop at once; I'll toss ya all into the Seidon River and let the bloody pikes nip some sense back into you!"


	7. Clare

**C****hapter Seven: "Clare, Bane of Teresa of the Faint Smile"**

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><p>By the time disguised Ivan the Terrible had arrived in Lyrall as well as left the Winking Pike to begin searching for his purpose for even being in town – to begin looking for she who would be his newest warrior apprentice, for she who would be the organization's newest claymore, for she who would be the means to finding out the reasons behind Teresa's demise – the time had been around mid-afternoon. In turn, as the claymore man had started subtly looking around for his student, as he'd asked at both the barracks as well as the church about any suspicious activity during the last seven days, the afternoon sun went from being in the sky to drooping towards the horizon to peeking just over the horizon… before vanishing behind that horizon altogether and letting the moonlit nighttime wrap its shroud around the world.<p>

It was getting to be actually pretty late into the night when Theodore Rodgers witnessed Ivan the Terrible step lightly through the front door and into his quiet, emptied, cleaned up inn. At once, the innkeeper noticed that his mysterious guest of room five – although smiling a warm smile at having been noticed – looked quite weary from whatever he'd been doing all afternoon long.

Ah, yes, Ivan had been looking for someone, correct? Correct. Yet, judging by the way he looked to be alone now like he had been when he'd left the inn earlier in the afternoon to start his search… Theodore guessed that his guest of room five hadn't had any luck in finding his certain someone.

Well, there was always tomorrow, right? Right. And at thinking such optimism to himself, seeing that Ivan looked a bit unbecoming, the innkeeper of the Winking Pike was quick to try to keep his guest's spirit up.

"You've returned." Theodore acknowledged gently with a smile on his face, pausing in sweeping his inn's dining room floor to give Ivan his full attention, "And from the looks of things, unfortunately… you've returned alone. No luck in finding that someone you wanted to find, eh?"

"No. I could not find her today, no matter what I did or tried or thought of." Ivan the Terrible admitted, shaking his head tiredly as he looked to go to his room for a bit of rest, "Like you suggested to me, I went to the barracks as well as church of this town and asked for information to help my search. I received no helpful info, however. Thus, it only made sense for me to not find my… someone on this day."

"How dispiriting to hear you had no luck in your search this afternoon." The innkeeper voiced sympathetically, honestly feeling sorry for his guest of room five, "Ah, well, at least there's tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that, hm? Are you not hungry, friend? I can go back in the kitchen and fix you up something nutritious to help you sleep well tonight which will aid you in looking around town tomorrow. There'll be no charge, of course. It'll be on the house."

"I appreciate the offer… but no. I am not hungry. Nor am I thirsty."

"Well, perhaps you're not hungry or thirsty but you're evidently troubled. Thus, you could use a friend to talk to and an ear to listen to your troubles." Theodore stated at once, pulling up a set of chairs, motioning for Ivan to sit in the one opposite of him, then taking a seat himself while looking very curious, "Come on, boy, sit. I won't bite. By the gods, I got to talking about my granddaddy earlier today but didn't at all get a chance to hear your tale of why you're in town. Who is it you're looking for? What girl is it you wish to find?"

In all honesty, as he sat down with his newly made friend in Lyrall, Ivan hadn't known what to think about finding someone in Lyrall all afternoon. During his recent looking around Lyrall, he hadn't known who to expect to run into. More than likely, as it went with claymore recruits, it should have been a young woman in her twenties or thirties. Still, for certain in this town, thanks to what he'd been told by Rubel back at the waterfall pond yesterday, the claymore man very well knew that he was to find – all in one – his newest apprentice, the organization's newest claymore and the means to finding more about the reason why Teresa of the Faint Smile died to Priscilla last week.

And the key to getting all of those things was somehow through Teresa's sword. The sword that Ivan knew – due to Rubel having explained it to him yesterday – that the someone he was looking for would recognize him by. The same sword he had had out in plain sight all afternoon… but had not drawn any girls, lasses or females of any sort out of the crowds to his side.

"Friend? You doing okay? You look distant." Theodore wondered of Ivan curiously, "Mind, we did just meet today. So, if you don't want to talk with me about who you're looking for her in Lyrall then I completely understand."

"No, no, it's quite alright, Theodore. We can talk about some things. I'm not afraid of you. And you can stop addressing me as friend. My name is Michael Norlinth." Ivan warmly explained, meanwhile thinking up a good cover story for why he was in Lyrall searching for a mysterious someone, "As for who I'm looking for in Lyrall… it's my cousin."

"Your cousin?"

"Yes. You see, I've been traveling the roads of this land for nearly all of my years alive. My cousin, though, she just started at my side last month. She's quite inexperienced in the ways of living out in the wilderness. Her parents died due to illness and that's how she was placed her in my care." Ivan the Terrible explained fluently, having years of storytelling experience on his side thanks to being a claymore and needing to invent such tall tales, "Well, it's only been a month since the passing of her folks and I was to look over my cousin as a result. Still, you know how deaths of loved ones affect a person… So, in the end, my cousin ran off into the wild on her own thinking everything was happening too fast."

"I see. That's truly sad, Michael. I'm sorry for your and your cousin's troubles." Theodore admitted gravely, eating up every word of the false tale Ivan was inventing with ease, "But for your cousin to flee from you because she thought things were being done too fast about her parent's deaths… what a childish thing for her to have done."

"That's correct. Still, cousins will be cousins. And she's my cousin… My lost little cousin now."

"Tell me, how long ago did your little one run away?"

"Several days back. It was south of here and I've had folks tell me that she's headed northward towards here."

"And… now you wonder if she's here in town hiding, eh?"

"No, she won't be hiding. She'll be waiting for me to take her back into my care. I'm sure she's learned her lesson about having run away from me. Right now, she'll be scared, uncertain and aimless. When she sees me, she'll be more than glad to be back in my hospitality again."

"I surely hope so. My what a trial you're suffering through, Michael… Your cousin, what does she look like? How old is she? She sounds like quite the child to handle."

"Uh, I, um… My cousin is indeed quite the child to handle…" Ivan admitted, trying his best to go along with the story he was telling and improvise, "What does she look like? Well, she's only up to my chest in height. That and she's thin."

"Yes, yes. Alright. What else?"

"Er… She has light brown hair that drapes to her shoulders. Some of the portions of her hair are longer than the rest so it hangs past her shoulders in fact. Her eyes are also just as light brown."

"You don't say." Theodore said back, feeling increasingly excited himself at what he was being told and thinking of a certain girl currently in room three at the same time, "And her age? Would you say that she was perhaps ten or twelve?"

"I… Why yes. Yes, she would be that age." Ivan admitted, not knowing why but seeing that Theodore looked a bit happy over something. Perhaps a part of his made up tale of his nonexistent cousin? "Why do you ask, Theodore? Is there something you know and I don't? You look… happy."

"Ho ho, well, Michael, you left in such a hurry earlier this afternoon that I never got the chance to hear this information beforehand. Now that I've listened to it, I feel like an absolute dope." The innkeeper chuckled, getting to his feet and having curious Ivan follow him to room three, "You said that you were looking for any suspicious girls who have stood out from the crowds during these last seven days, no? Well, I plain forgot when you asked that I've had a certain young lady – a girl of maybe ten years of age – staying by herself in room three here for the last week. And after hearing your description of your cousin… I would bet my life now that the girl in my room three is your little lost cousin."

"Truly? A girl of ten has been staying in this room for the last week by herself?" Ivan the Terrible wondered curiously, suddenly feeling odd about the topic about a ten year old girl having been by herself in Lyrall for so long, "I don't… I can't believe… Ha ha, Theodore, you don't say?"

"Oh but I do say. For the last seven days, a little girl has been staying in this room saying she's been waiting for someone to find her. She has light brown hair and eyes like you just described. And if her staying here alone isn't odd enough for you, my friend, then listen to this; she was brought here by a man dressed all in black who paid for her lodgings to last a whole month here! How's that for odd?"

No… Ivan suddenly couldn't believe what was happening or what he was hearing. He couldn't fathom what he was realizing. None of this he was experiencing could be right at all. Seven days ago, a man dressed all in black had paid for a ten year old girl to stay in room three where she'd waited for someone to come get her since?

"Your cousin, Michael…" Theodore questioned brightly, "Was her name Clare by chance?"

"Huh? What? Oh, um, the man who brought the girl – uh, my cousin to your inn, Theodore…" Ivan said back, having been drawn out of his troubled thoughts and momentarily ignoring the topic of his made up cousin, "Was the man in black… What did he look like?"

"Uh, he was very curious looking, friend. The man was quite polite, well dressed and well groomed. He had on all black clothes including a hat as well as glasses. Maybe he was bald but I couldn't exactly tell." The innkeeper explained, not noticing the slight grimace of disbelief and awareness on Ivan's expression, "Either way, the black dressed stranger paid grandly for your cousin to stay here. Where he found her he didn't say but she seemed quite alright inside and outside of his care. He left her here with me and now here you are to take her like she's been waiting for you to do for the last week. What good fortune, no? You and your cousin have a guardian angel watching over you."

Yes… Rubel was quite the guardian angel when he wanted to be. Judging by what was being said, it seemed more and more that he had been in Lyrall last week along with purposefully paid for some little girl's room and board in the Winking Pike.

Now, not only was he ominous but Rubel especially proved to be quite the master of twisted jokes in Ivan's opinion when Theodore opened the door to room three, checked inside, led the way in, lit the bedside lamp, fatherly awakened a small form underneath the bed sheets and then… Ivan indeed observed a girl of about ten years old sleepily sit up, glance at him in the lamplight, rub her brown eyes as well as take notice of the swords on his back.

"You…?" The little girl mumbled at once, looking Ivan up and down intently all of a sudden at seeing the blades on his back, "Are you a claymore-"

"Clare, little one, I'm sorry to wake you but is this not your cousin who you've been waiting to come get you for the last week?" Theodore wondered gently to the little girl in bed, Clare, cutting her off, "Is this not your older cousin, Michael? Is this not who you've been waiting for during the last seven days?"

"Michael?" Clare grumbled in confusion, studying silent Ivan with sleepy eyes, "My cousin?"

Ridiculous… THIS COULDN'T BE! Yet, with how everything had led him up to this point, even as Ivan the Terrible's heart along with mind tried to desperately reject the idea, some part of him couldn't keep from knowing that this little itty bitty girl, Clare, was to be his newest student, the organization's newest silver eyed slayer, the means to discovering Teresa's fall to Priscilla! For he had heard from Theodore already that Clare's room and board had been paid by a mysterious man in black – that mysterious man being Rubel, of course – last week. And as he numbly drew Teresa's sword from the sheath on his back, Ivan completed his searching in Lyrall for the someone he was ordered by Rubel to find.

"Teresa's… That's Teresa's sword!" Clare exclaimed, looking from Teresa's blade to grim Ivan in growing anticipation, "How do you have that?! You're just like her, aren't you? You're a silver eyed-"

"Cousin… Stop rambling." Ivan firmly stated at once, not wanting the excited child in bed to blow his cover in front of Theodore who had not caught on to what was being discussed, "It's alright. I'm here. After a week of you waiting, I've finally come for you. Now hush."

* * *

><p>Silence. For the longest time since Ivan the Terrible had thanked Theodore for having found his supposedly lost little cousin as well as had the innkeeper leave the room for private reasons, grim silence was what was shared between the disbelieving claymore man as well as she who was going to be his light brown haired, brown eyed, ten year old child of an apprentice; Clare.<p>

This child… This girl no older than ten… Yes, this Clare character was the one Ivan had been looking for in Lyrall all afternoon. It was clear that she was going to be his new student, the organization's newest silver eyed slayer and the means to knowing Teresa's death. How did Ivan know these things for sure?

Firstly, his unmistakable instincts as a yoma hunter said so.

Secondly, as Theodore had explained moments ago, Clare's room and board for the last week had obviously been paid for by the black messenger of the organization, Rubel.

Thirdly as well as most importantly, the little girl had instantly recognized Teresa's sword when it'd been drawn. That was the most crucial fact of them all.

Still… for whatever reason the organization had, this little lass, Clare, was far too young to become a claymore! Heck, she was far too young to even know what the title of "Claymore" meant. She couldn't possibly understand what she was doing seeking out the yoma slaying order; that to become a yoma hunter meant she would have to throw away everything that meant happiness, contentment, being a human.

Yet, maybe she did.

Since she knew Teresa's sword, since she knew he was a claymore himself, Ivan couldn't deny that it seemed that Clare did have some experience about who or what claymore meant and what they were underneath their human appearances. How was that, though? How was it possible for a ten year old human girl to see through Ivan's disguise? To see that he wasn't carrying around two simple, large blades on his back but refined claymores – one that had formerly belonged to she of the Faint Smile herself – meant to slice through yoma flesh?

"There is more to the story of Teresa's death than I am telling you, Ivan the Terrible." Rubel had said back at the waterfall pond yesterday while having given Ivan his orders, "If you wish to know of the truth then take that blade – the blade of Teresa of the Faint Smile – and bring it with you to Lyrall. There, someone will recognize Teresa's blade and come to you. That someone will be your new apprentice. That someone will be your means to uncovering the truth of number one's death."

"Are…" Clare mumbled to Ivan, having watched him intently from her bed since she'd laid her eyes on him and woken fully up from her slumber earlier, "Are you… a claymore? You have to be one, carrying around those swords like that. And you have Teresa's sword. Why? Who are you? How are you a guy and not a girl? Claymores are supposed to be women-"

"Quiet. I have gained many names in this world during my campaign of taking yoma heads from their bodies, girl. Yes, I am a man. Yes, I am also a claymore. Accept it. My true name, mind, is Ivan. Ivan the Terrible. As for why I have she of the Faint Smile's, former number one's, sword, it was my subtle means of finding you in this town like I was recently ordered to do." Ivan explained firmly, narrowing his eyes in the lamplight that illuminated room three around him, "And speaking of being subtle… In this town, you, girl, are my cousin. You will address me not as Ivan but as Michael until I say otherwise. No more will you ramble about claymores around me. No more will you ask about my swords. It will attract unwanted attention to you."

"So your name is Michael?"

"No… Well, yes and no."

"So your actual name is Ivan the Terrible but you're using another name like Michael because you're in disguise, right?" Clare wondered curiously, cocking her head to one side as she looked at her claymore superior's eyes seriously, "I mean, if you're a claymore then you have to be in disguise because your eyes aren't silver. They're blue. Why?"

"I have my ways of not wanting to draw attention as a claymore. The organization has its ways, more like." Ivan the Terrible explained, taking a seat on the bedside chair to the left, "And such ways include changing eye color at cost which is that I cannot sense yoma power… Yet, such talk is meant for a claymore like myself. Not for a child such as you."

"No, I'm not a child! Not anymore, anyway." Clare argued at once, a heated glint coming to her eyes at having been called a child, "I'm going to be a claymore. I found a messenger in black and said I wanted him to make me a claymore and he said he would. That's when he left me here in this room, told me someone would get around to training me and now here you are with Teresa's sword. So are you going to teach me to be a claymore, Ivan, sir?"

"No, do not address me as Ivan, girl. I'm Michael for the moment. And as for me teaching you anything about being a claymore… I'm confused. You have plenty of life to live. You should be thinking last of becoming a silver eyed slayer and living as a human first like the rest of the kids in this world."

"I'm not a kid! I… I can't stay a kid." Clare grumbled, abruptly looking sorrowful rather than determined towards her claymore superior, "Not after what happened to Teresa. Not after all that she did for me."

At this sudden if not sad mention of Teresa, at seeing such a large amount of sorrow show on Clare's expression when she spoke of the former number one, Ivan's curiosity was dramatically increased. From how she had just talked about her, it seemed that Clare had had some kind of connection with Teresa of the Faint Smile in the past. That couldn't be, though! During all of her life as a claymore, as Ivan had come to learn about her during his days at her side, Teresa had never been one to open her heart to anyone; especially to humans. Truthfully, Ivan as well as a few other silver eyes had ever had the rare honor of even being close to being friends with her.

Yet, here was this human child, Clare… acting all teary eyed and depressed at the thought of Teresa of the Faint Smile. At the single mention of Teresa, the little girl had become very quiet. With her legs pulled up to her chin and wrapped in her arms, she looked very lost in her own thoughts about things only she could understand. Things that Ivan felt that he wanted, no, needed to find out. Things that would answer his questions about the demise of his longtime rival due to Priscilla.

"You cannot stay a child because of what happened to Teresa? You mean to tell me that you knew she of the Faint Smile?" Ivan the Terrible wondered softly, bringing Clare back into the present and out of her deep thinking, "You mean to say that you wish to become a claymore because of something that has to do with her? Does your reason for wanting to become a silver eyed slayer have to do with her death, Clare?"

"I need… I need to kill that horned monster that killed Teresa! There's nothing else I want to do but that!" The little girl exclaimed suddenly, her eyes brimming with tears, "Teresa… why did she have to die? Why?"

"Wait, hold on, Clare, did you see Teresa die last week? Were you involved in some way?"

"Yes! Yes, I involved! Augh, hic, we were going to go somewhere quiet and safe and leave the world alone. Why did those other claymores come to kill Teresa? She didn't do anything wrong! All she did was kill bad humans, bandits, hic, hic, to save me and then-"

"Hush. Slow down, girl. I can't make out what you're saying. Calm yourself." Ivan insisted, grabbing a hold of the water jug nearby left behind by Theodore on the bedside table earlier, "Here, take a drink of this. Clear your throat. Take some deep breaths. Relax… Now, Clare, go slowly. Explain to me why you must become a claymore. Explain to me how you know Teresa. Fill me in on why she killed humans and who came to kill her last week. Take your time… We have all night."

And so, during some hours of the night, the little girl Clare explained as best as she could through her teary hiccups to incredulous Ivan the Terrible her honest story.

Sometime last month, Teresa of the Faint Smile had eventually met little Clare, been hostile towards the her at first, had come to love the girl, had killed a band of brigands to save the child as well as an entire village from harm and had then been assailed by numbers two through five in the northern village of Florence last week… when Priscilla, seized by rage, had awakened along with killed claymore numbers one, three, four and five; Teresa, Ilena, Sophia, Noel.

By the end of her telling and retelling all that she knew about her days at Teresa's side, Ivan the Terrible was truly lost for words. He was downright undecided on how to act next. As Rubel had said yesterday back at the waterfall pond, the claymore man had not only found his newest pupil in Lyrall but also the truth behind she of the Faint Smile's death.

Teresa… she had taken Clare into her care. She had taken a human child into her claymore lifestyle where humans did not survive long. She had gone on to kill bandits to protect that human child. She had spared Priscilla and the hunting party because of that human child. And then, due to her show of mercy… she had died because of that human child.

In short, Clare was the reason for all of the trouble! She was the bloody bane of Teresa of the Faint Smile! She was the reason number one had died last week!

And now, like some kind of sick joke… the organization was looking to stick Clare on Ivan the Terrible for supposed training? What, so he would soften up like Teresa? So he would make the mistake of killing humans to protect the child? So he would make a mistake, show mercy at a bad time and get himself killed easier while looking to gain revenge against Priscilla in the future?!

"Clare… I thank you for telling me all that you know about Teresa's death. It has set my worries at ease about many things." Ivan admitted, nodding his thanks to the emotional human girl on the bed, "Still, you do realize that the moment Priscilla took Teresa's head from her shoulders… you were and are the very reason she is dead, correct?"

"I… Yes, I know!" Clare admitted, clenching her fists tighter at the truth, "I know, I know, I know! That's why I have to become a claymore! That's why I want Teresa's flesh and blood inside of me. That way I can kill that horned monster like it killed her!"

Silence. Grim silence was what followed Clare's words. Then, with a serious tone, Ivan questioned, "Girl… Did you just say that you wanted Teresa's flesh and blood put inside of you?"

"YES! Yes, I do!"

"Do you realize what that even means? Do you not realize that that would be a waste of effort and time no matter how it was done?!" Ivan snarled, suddenly becoming very angry at realizing why the organization had said yes to Clare wanting to become a claymore and why they wanted her to be his student, "You wish for her flesh and blood to be put inside of you but you could never be Teresa! She was one of a kind! I should know that because I – I – Urgh, you think that you knew Teresa? I knew her for years and this – this isn't at all… Clare, you cannot become a claymore!"

"What? Why? I have to!"

"Bullshit!" Ivan exclaimed, seizing Clare by her shoulders and staring hard into her eyes with his own, "You're blind with hatred. You're not thinking straight. You're thinking like the child you are. Teresa wouldn't want you to become like her! From the story you just told me about you being with her, she wanted you to live your life rather than travel with her and I fully agree! The life of the claymore is not meant for you. It will bring only failure and tragedy."

"Well, I don't agree! I have to try!" Clare argued back immediately, struggling in Ivan's grip meanwhile, "Please, please, Ivan, sir, you have to help me become a claymore. That's why you're here. You were ordered to come get me. The man in black said that a claymore would come and teach me to be strong! And when I am strong I'll have Teresa put inside of me! Then I'll be strong enough to fight yoma. I'll be strong enough to kill that one horned monster!"

"But that's just it. You won't ever be strong enough. Not even with Teresa inside of you!" Ivan stated heavily, growing impatient, "You'll be the weakest of all claymores… No matter how it is done, with Teresa inside of you or not, with me training your or not, you'll only be a fourth of a sliver eyed slayer rather than half!"

"I don't care! I'll still be a claymore like you and Teresa-"

"You won't be anything like Teresa! You'll still be a child with a death wish instead! Something she wouldn't want to see you be if she was alive!"

"She – Ugh…."

Despite her obvious will to go on arguing her case, Clare suddenly went limp and silent in firm Ivan's grasp. Quietly, resolutely, after having performed the subtle pinch on her vital points near her shoulders which had knocked her out cold, the claymore man laid the little girl back onto the bed. Without another word, having pulled the bed sheets up to Clare's chin, with his heart aching at all of the things he'd learned tonight about Teresa's past month with the human child, Ivan the Terrible left room three and entered his own quarters.

In room five, Ivan the Terrible decided he would sleep lightly. Then, several hours before dawn, he would depart Lyrall without the human girl who – thanks to his neck pinch on her – wouldn't be awake until noon tomorrow.

Truly, the organization would not be pleased with the claymore man's rebellious course of action. Still, in their presently weak state, what would they do about it? What COULD they do about it? Nothing. They couldn't do anything and therefore would do nothing about him going his own way because they would have no other choice but to let him do as he pleased. Besides, it was their fault for trying to force a human girl - a handicap that could get him killed - onto him with warning.

Clare. Naturally, she would not forgive Ivan for leaving her behind in Lyrall where he truly hoped she would grow to be a happy human with a family in the future. In fact, if Ivan wrote a good enough letter to Theodore before leaving then perhaps the innkeeper would come to even adopt Clare as a kind of daughter.

All in all, as he let his eyes droop in weariness and his mind slipped closer towards slumber, the claymore man was aware that leaving the human girl in town was the right thing to do… For seeing as she wanted Teresa put inside of her, he knew deep down that the organization was not interested in the wants of the child at all. No, they were solely focused on using her as an experimental claymore; an experiment meant to try to bring back she of the Faint Smile in a sense.

Indeed, the only sensible reason the organization had accepted Clare into their ranks was due to her wanting the flesh and blood of Teresa inside of her. Then, with Ivan training her, even with a fourth yoma power, Clare would possibly have a slim chance at becoming a suitable warrior; at becoming a living piece of Teresa. Yet, that slim chance… wasn't worth taking. It was a chance which Ivan knew Teresa, if alive, wouldn't want Clare to take to gain revenge against Priscilla.

No, as he dozed in room five, Ivan the Terrible was certain of himself as well as his intentions. For the honor of Teresa of the Faint Smile's memory, he understood that Clare wasn't destined to become a claymore. She was destined to live her human life to its fullest instead.

Or so he would unknowingly believe… until his next meeting with Rubel tomorrow where his firm beliefs about Clare's future would be warped, twisted and made uncertain by the smuggest of black messengers.


End file.
